Chapter Thirty-One:

A Kiss Goodnight

The wolf continued to growl. It wasn't like any noise Sam had ever heard before, from classes or documentaries or visits to the zoo. It was a low, near-constant rumbling that seemed to vibrate through the air around the wolf and into her, making her feel jittery and on edge. She didn't dare look at it though, her eyes fixed on the wendigo in the trees.

It was a mess of its already monstrous former self. Josh's blackened, oily blood substance still clung to it and seemed to be eating away at its flesh. Parts of its skin looked burnt and one arm hung at a strange angle that, even for the monster, seemed unnatural. Its eyes, round and wide and mad, were locked onto her. Strangely, Sam found that she felt almost calm. After everything she had just seen, after speaking to the disembodied voice of off-mountain normality, this seemed like such a small thing. Maybe it would kill her here.

That would be okay. It didn't really matter anymore.

Wolfie's growling deepened a shade and the thought jarred in her head, like a bell rung too hard and too close. It was too similar to the things she'd heard Josh mutter under his breath. Sam remembered Mike's face when he'd realized she was leaving, the way that Jess had clung to her in desperation, Ashley's hand squeezing hers, Matt's certain nod when she'd told him to stay behind and help. It did matter. She mattered. There were others up here still depending on her.

Sam swallowed hard, waiting for the thing to make a move. The wind began to pick up, shifting the pine boughs and making them sigh. How long did she have before their rescuers arrived? Would there be time to deal with this and get the others up here for evacuation? Her exhausted muscles ached with the effort to stay still.

And its eyes remained on her.

Her arms ached. Her whole body ached. She took a slow breath and a sharp pain lanced through her lung. Gasping, she flinched and, in that moment, knew it was over.

The thing launched itself forward, bounding across the snow towards her like a beast. Chris's delusion about them being a type of big cat seemed suddenly much more believable. Sam tried to move, scrambling backwards towards the cab of the helicopter again, as the wolf snarled and leaped towards the approaching monster. Wolfie sank its teeth into the thing's thigh and the two spun in some kind of horrific parody of a dance. Sam grabbed for anything, anything that she could use as a weapon and almost sobbed in relief when her hands closed around a freezing, splintered branch.

She swung it around and up, just as the thing shook off the wolf, flinging it to the side. It slid in the snow, whimpering softly. But Sam didn't have time to think about the poor animal. She brought the stick down in front of her, holding it like a sword. "Come on, you bastard," she muttered. "Come on."

It caught the branch on her first swing, wrenching it out of her hands and letting it fall, useless, to the ground. "Sammy-bird," it sang softly in Josh's voice. Then, in that cobbled-together patchwork voice she'd come to loathe: "I should—thank you for—killing—him. Saved me—trouble."

Something inside her broke and she drove her bare fist towards its face. "Fuck you!"

It grabbed her wrist easily and bent her arm back. She gasped as agony, new and fresh, radiated through her. Driving her arm back even further, it forced her backwards but kept her from falling. Her back bowed painfully and she let out an involuntary, choked off shriek. "Rude—child. I've waited—for—long enough."

She spat in its face. It screamed with rage, the sound piercing through her like a spear and she laughed, following that same insane urge that had let her smile at the police interview and hit the Psycho with the bat and even kiss Beth for the first time. There was nothing left to lose, really, and she'd be damned if she went quietly.

In the periphery of her vision, three figures in white flickered into view, like developing photographs or sunspots. Hope—slim, fragile, beautiful hope—bloomed in Sam's chest, but she didn't dare look away from where the thing loomed over her, a long tendril of saliva dangling down to tremble inches from her cheek.

"Sam!"

She couldn't tear her eyes from the teeth, the thin, quivering tongue. There were feet pounding towards them, crunching in the fresh snow, but the thing didn't look away either. It hissed, its jaws widening as it lowered its head down. It almost seemed like it was going in for an open-mouthed kiss. Sam winced, bracing herself. It was time. It was her turn. TPK, she thought numbly. Total party kill.

Its hands were wrenched off her as something bowled into it, driving it off her and into the snow. No longer held up, she collapsed backwards. Matt took advantage of its surprise to jump back onto his feet in a flash, clearly drawing on untold hours of practice on and off the field. He darted to Sam and hauled her to her feet. "Get behind me," he ordered, grabbing a crowbar from where he'd dropped it off to the side.

"How did—"

"Totems," he said by way of explanation, then dropped his voice to mutter under his breath. "Dumb visions. Not even helpful. Mostly just creepy. Thanks a million, you stupid fucking mountain."

Sam looked around, trying to find the figures she'd thought she'd seen, but there was just an empty, moonlight clearing with forest beyond. There wasn't even any sign of the wolf who had tried to protect her. She took a deep breath, wincing as her entire body complained. Her arm ached and it was hard to clench her fist. That couldn't possibly be a good sign. In front of them, the thing shoved itself back to its feet, crouching on long, wiry legs. It hissed. "I—will eat—the—both of you," it snarled.

She could feel Matt's entire body tense, ready to fight, and she braced herself.

It seemed to leap towards them in slow motion, both arms reaching forward, overlong fingers grabbing for Matt.

Sound and light exploded in front of them. White flashes, quicker than Sam could easily track, burst into being in a quick, spastic pattern. After the silvery glow of the moonlit snow, it was blinding. Instinctively, Sam shielded her eyes, already seeing spots. In tandem with the lights, the sound she'd heard down below in the old hotel echoed around them, the bell-like bong that seemed to reverberate through her very bones. It set her ears ringing and she wasn't sure she could hear anything else.

"What the hell? Matt, do you—" She couldn't even make out her own words; she doubted Matt could hear her any better. Another thought occurred to her. Why weren't they dead?

Under the residual ringing of the phantom bell, she could hear something else. It wasn't a speaking voice, but more like a howl of frustration and hurt. Sam reached forward blindly, one hand finding Matt's warm, broad back. She stepped to the side and forward, moving around him, and felt something cold wrap around her wrist.

The blonde froze, heart in her throat, praying that the familiar chill wasn't just in her head. She blinked rapidly, trying to rid herself of the spots in her vision.

Gradually she was able to see in front of her again. Matt had apparently been hit by the same combination of sensory overload and decided to just stay in place. He was shaking his head, looking dazed. She gripped his arm tightly and he turned to look at her, his eyes taking a moment to focus on her face. "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "I'm not sure how, but yeah." She could hear him, though it sounded like he was speaking to her from the other end of a long tunnel. "What the hell happened? Where is it?"

They looked around, but the thing that had attacked them was gone. The snow where it had been was a mess of blackish, spattered blood and disturbed snow. Rough tracks dragged their way away from the two of them and back into the trees. The night was quiet and peaceful again, the moon shining down on the snow. There was no sign of any figures in white either. The only cold Sam felt was the chill of the winter.

Sam swallowed hard, blinking away the suddenly threatening tears. She had been so sure… But no. Shaking her head, she smiled weakly at Matt. "Gone, I guess. How did you know I was in trouble? You said there was a totem?"

He looked sheepish, scratching the back of his head and shrugging. "I wasn't sure it was you. I thought it was an old one, really, but then I realized you'd be up here in the snow all alone and I just… I panicked, I guess."

"Well I'm incredibly glad you did." She was trying for lightness, but her voice just sounded tired, even to her own ears. "I'm not sure if it was me, but your timing was perfect anyway."

"I'm still not sure why we aren't dead right now. Why aren't we dead right now?"

With one last glance at the empty area around them, Sam sighed. "I think we just have to be grateful for it. There are rescue helicopters on the way. We should get everyone up here."

"Do you think that thing is going to come back?"

She laughed humorlessly at that, her voice cracking painfully. "Given our luck? Probably. But we still have to be here for the helicopters. We need to get everyone out of here before we lose… before anything else happens."

They took the walk back in silence, for which Sam was grateful. She could practically navigate these strange passageways with her eyes closed at this point. Every now and then, she thought she caught a flicker of white in the corner of her eye, but there was never anything there. It was exhaustion and desperation and having the end in sight, making her imagine things.

The second Sam walked back through the door into the club room, a small, warm figure slammed into her. "Sam," Ashley said, her voice breaking into a sob. "Sam, I was so worried you wouldn't come back."

"I almost didn't," Sam murmured, casting another grateful look to Matt. She closed her arms around the redhead, holding her tightly. "But I'm back and help is coming, okay? It's going to be—" Okay, she almost finished before she caught herself. But it wasn't, was it? Chris's body was still out there somewhere in the darkness, while Josh lay dead in the far room. "We're going to get out of here. How's Em?"

"I have the worst hangover in the history of the world without even having a drink and if I ever have to see this mountain again, I will burn the entire thing down. " The girl was leaning heavily on Jess, looking irritated and gloriously, miraculously alive. She pointed at Sam. "I am serious. I will burn the forest down."

Hank cleared his throat. "I would advise against trying, but either way, let's work on getting you gone." His tired eyes met Sam's and he raised his eyebrows. "You were able to get through?"

She nodded over Ashley's shoulder. "They're sending someone. We're supposed to get up there and shine any lights we have so they know where to go."

Matt rested a gentle hand on Ashley's arm and she pulled away from Sam to hug him instead. The blonde looked around the group. Melinda was staring blankly at a tipped over chair. If she could hear their conversation, she didn't seem to care, not that Sam could blame her. What were they going to do about Josh's body? She hadn't even thought about it yet.

Forcing herself back to the moment, she tried to focus. What mattered right now was getting their injured to safety. The rest could wait. It would have to. She hoped Josh, wherever he was now, would understand.

It was a slow group that trouped up to the surface, most of them leaning on others or even being carried. Emily hadn't been stable enough to walk, despite her loud insistence, and Matt had finally just scooped her up into his arms. Once he was holding her, she fell silent again, letting her head fall to rest grateful against his chest. If she'd had it in her, Sam might have smiled at that. Sometimes Emily reminded her of Beth: all stubbornness and snark to hide when she was hurting.

For some reason, Mike wouldn't meet her eyes and simply staggered along, face pale and tired. His arm was a disaster. It was hard not to stare at it, to remember when he'd held her. Sam couldn't muster the energy to press, though, and let him be for the time being. Later, she told herself. She'd figure it out later, when she wasn't supporting a dead-eyed Melinda.

Sam thanked her lucky stars that Hank was there. He seemed to be in decent shape, despite the occasional stumble, and helped her set up the rescue flares from a plastic box under the pilot's seat. The group huddled quietly in the alien red glow of the flares, waiting. The distant sound of a helicopter's blades made Sam's heart shudder painfully in her chest. This was it. This was the end.

It was over.

The helicopter meant safety, but it also meant finality. Josh was gone. Chris was gone. The girls were gone. They were leaving.

And that, she supposed, was that.

They took the most injured first: Emily, Mike, Melinda, and Jess. No one said goodbye. No one said anything, besides the bare minimum needed to tell the rescue team who was who and what kind of help they needed. Sam finally caught Mike's gaze as the helicopter began to lift off the ground. He offered her a weak smile and all she could do was nod. She hoped he understood everything she was trying to tell him with that one gesture. Wait, she tried to say. Wait for me. I'm not done yet.

Waiting for the helicopter to make its return trip for the rest of them, Sam took Matt across the clearing under the pretext of straightening one of the flares. "Do we go get the bodies?" she asked him softly, trying not to let Ashley overhear. The poor girl didn't need to be reminded yet again of what she'd lost.

He sighed and scrubbed his hand over his eyes. "I don't know. Do we even know where Chris—where the other body is?"

Everything about this made her feel nauseated and weak. "We'll tell Hank. He can figure out the retrieval, I guess."

"They know what they're doing," Matt said, nodding.

Then a realization hit her hard, knocking the breath out of her. She shook her head. "Matt, it's a cannibal."

"But—" His eyes widened. "Oh."

"We can't leave them here. We just can't. What if it—if it—" Sam couldn't even say it. She beckoned to Hank and shot a meaningful look at Matt, who headed back to keep Ashley company.

Hank, thankfully, seemed less concerned. Although whether that was due to confidence in the rescue and retrieval team or simply because he didn't fully appreciate the severity of the monster's eating habits, Sam wasn't sure. He reassured her that they would come back immediately for the bodies and get them down off the mountain.

It would have to do. Like so much else lately, Sam really didn't have a choice in the matter.

Sitting in the helicopter was almost deafening. Her stomach squirmed as they took off, one arm around Ashley as her other hand clutched Matt's in a white-knuckled grip. She looked down at the ruined lodge, the ring of faltering flares.

Three figures in white stared up at her from the edge of the trees, watching her go.