Malexfaith: Thank you. I mostly keep track of everything in my head, but I also have a notebook dedicated solely to this story to help.
RJRMovieFan: Thank you. I worried at first that a story so long could get boring, but I view it more like a TV show now, each chapter an episode of something bigger to come.
Pixie1913: Yeah, I wouldn't be going into the basement either.
Guest: Thank you!
Guest: I don't care much about anyone other than Aubrey - yet I am still getting sad as I kill them all off.
SunDanceQT: Banter is my forte.
96itadakimasu96: So much love.
Ash: I considered being the next Stephen King or Agatha Christie, but then I decided I'd rather terrify fandom.
Arrhythmia
Not easy living in my mind;
A little peace is hard to find.
My every thought is undermined,
By all the history inside.
- Staind
"Seriously?" Beca deadpans.
"It's because your so short, you don't amount to anything," Aubrey says. She places her hand on the edge of the dumbwaiter, turning around when her fingers brush paper. There is an envelope placed flat on the bottom. So, clearly, it wasn't nothing. She picks it up and turns it over in her hands. The front says 'Locke v. Jack'. It's a LOST reference. She looks around – at the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Someone must have overheard them – or recognized her speech.
Chloe, Beca, and Benji are staring at her, and Aubrey realizes they're waiting for her to open it. It isn't sealed. She looks down and lifts the flat then pulls out the first of two sheets of paper.
"What is it?" Beca asks as she unfolds it.
It's a screencap. Of Aubrey's Instagram. From when she and Chloe both decided to do a throwback Friday and post a picture of themselves at their high school graduations. It's one of the few family pictures not taken for holiday cards that Aubrey has – and possibly the only one where she was sincerely happy taking it. Everybody was happy. Her father, her mother, her brothers, all of them are smiling back at her. Only Aubrey isn't smiling. She's scribbled out with permanent marker, and above her, the words 'HAPPY FAMILY' are written.
"Bree, you okay?" Chloe asks.
"It's nothing." Aubrey nods her head and fakes a smile. "It was probably just in there from before." She crumples it up as Chloe tries to step to the side to see it.
Chloe holds her hand out flat. "If it's nothing, let me see."
Aubrey walks over to the paper can and drops it inside without a word.
xxxxx
"I thought tuna salad would be fitting," Mr. Beale said as he took two sandwiches out of the cooler, "Do you like tuna salad? I should have asked."
Aubrey nodded. Chloe's mom had already asked her before she made the sandwiches. She took it from him and unwrapped it from the plastic. "Do you think we'll see any alligators?" She was intrigued now. And what a great story it would be to go back and tell Chloe.
"Do you want to see an alligator?" Mr. Beale asked.
Aubrey nodded mid-bite into her sandwich. "Mm." She turned around as her fishing pole began to lean forward. Quickly, she put her sandwich down on the arm of her chair and grabbed the rod. "I have something."
"Reel 'er in!" Mr. Beale shouted and stood up. "Everyone gets a TV dinner tonight!"
A Hungry-Man sized TV dinner. Aubrey alternated between pulling the rod tip up then reeling rapidly as she dropped it back down. The fish was intent on putting up a hard fight.
"Tire it out," Mr. Beale encouraged her, "We can net it."
"Okay." Aubrey did as she was told – letting it put up its fight until it was close to the surface, resting on its side with only some sporadic attempts to free itself.
"That's gotta be a good ten pounds." Mr. Beale held the net as Aubrey led it headfirst inside. "Bring it in." He switched Aubrey the net for her rod, and she lifted it over the deck and into the boat. "And my wife tried to tell me I didn't need the bigger ice box. Haha!" He lightly slugged Aubrey's shoulder. "This is a fish to be proud of."
Mr. Beale took a step back and did a victory dance. "Ain't nobody starvin' in my house tonight. Cause we got a fish." His song and dance lasted for the duration of Aubrey unhooking, cleaning, and putting the fish in the ice box – and then longer. "It's time to see the alligators. My friends the alligators. Brought beef jerky for the alligators." It might have been odd if Aubrey had never seen Chloe do the exact same dance.
Aubrey stood up straight and tucked her hands beneath her arms, feeling taller than ever. "Wait, you feed the alligators?"
"Don't tell my wife."
xxxxx
It's fine. Aubrey is fine. Minus that she's trapped with a psychopath intent on making her as miserable as possible while everyone around her dies. That part isn't so fine. But the picture? It's really fine. She wants to take a deep calming breath, but even the small ones necessary to keep her alive hurt. It's fine.
"Aubrey," Chloe says her name. It's both gentle and a warning at the same time.
"We need to find the flashlights," Aubrey says.
"You still want to stay here even after that?" Beca asks.
Aubrey nods and folds the envelope and the remaining paper inside of it, and slides it into her back pocket. It was one of their own who sent it; Aubrey knows it. And they already established that someone is a mole. They'll follow the plan as set, and they'll leave at night. Only now, she wonders if someone overheard that too.
"Aubrey," Chloe is a little more forceful this time, "Stop deflecting."
Aubrey just looks at her.
Fat Amy shrieks her name from downstairs. "Aubrey!" It isn't the tone of somebody who wants to tell her they found some flashlights.
Aubrey shares a wide eyed look with Chloe then bolts for the stairs – the rest of them running after her. Their things are still in the lobby's sitting area and she snatches up the rifle before she comes to a crashing halt in front of Fat Amy and Lilly by the front desk.
"Stacie's gone," Fat Amy blurts out before Aubrey even has time to process her absence.
"What?" Chloe asks, jogging to meet Aubrey.
That isn't possible. It isn't possible. Fear engulfs her. "How?!" she shouts at them, "You were supposed to stick together!"
The guys appear in the lobby looking frazzled by the scene in front of them.
Fat Amy and Lilly stare at her.
"How?!" Aubrey raises her voice louder. Chloe tries to touch her arm, but Aubrey swats her away. It didn't hit her how much she cared about Cynthia-Rose until she was bleeding out in front of Aubrey's eyes. How much Jessica, Ashley, and Denise should have gotten more recognition. Or how she and Stacie may have never been close, but that didn't mean Aubrey didn't care at all. Just because she wanted to play the 'every man for himself' card to save Chloe did not mean she wanted Stacie to die.
"She wanted to find Sophia," Lilly whispers.
"I blinked and she was gone," Fat Amy says.
It's now that Aubrey notices the front door is wide open. "You let her leave?" she growls, backing up toward the exit, "We are never going to survive this place." She turns and walks swiftly out the door and down the porch steps, looking in every direction. "Stacie!"
"Hey, someone is going to hear you," Jesse says as they all follow her out.
Their location has already been tracked. Just like every other place they've been. Everything they've done. The things they've said. "Stacie!" Aubrey tosses the rifle into the grass. She's met with silence. Not even the birds or crickets wants to be involved in this bloodbath. Panic boils itself into anger. She grabs a tree branches from the ground and slams it hard enough into the tree beside her that it snaps in half. No one says anything. Of course, they don't. Maybe if she had made more of a fucking effort to say something when this all started, they'd all be home and alive right now. She yells through closed lips and kicks the tree. And then she feels nothing again – just like that.
"Stacie!" Chloe is standing in the middle of the road, yelling too, "We can help you find her!"
"Stacie!" They're all yelling. They're all screaming promises that none of them can keep. Trying to lure her back in alive now, so they can all watch her die later.
Aubrey grabs the rifle again and drags her feet back to the stairs. There isn't even any way of knowing which way she went. Had she ran through the forest, Aubrey could probably track her. But chances are, she would stay on the road until she got farther away from the inn. She sits down on one of the steps and leans all the way forward to rest her head in her knees with her arms wrapped around the space between her chest and stomach. Let those of them who can breathe keep screaming. She props herself back up part of the way with her face in her hand and tries to figure out how to breathe through the pain of breathing.
xxxxx
"I'm supposed to keep you out of trouble," Aubrey reminded him.
"Well, Mom told me to get you into some trouble," Mr. Beale replied.
"That's definitely not what she said."
"Not to you."
"Fine," Aubrey conceded, "But no feeding them." Mrs. Beale hadn't said anything specifically about alligators. It didn't hurt to look. This was Florida after all. Alligators were everywhere. She quietly finished off her sandwich as he started the boat and began to drive.
"Have you ever seen a swamp?" Mr. Beale asked.
Aubrey shook her head.
"Never seen an alligator. Never seen a swamp." Mr. Beale nodded. He picked up speed as they left the safety of the main lake and the other boats behind them. The farther they traveled, the denser the trees became, some growing straight out of the murky water. "Keep an eye out for the babies."
Aubrey nodded and stood up. Keep an eye out for the babies. "Why the babies?"
Something hit the boat, causing it to rock.
"That wasn't a baby," Mr. Beale said. He slowed down the boat.
No, it definitely was not a baby. "Maybe this wasn't a good idea," Aubrey said, gravitating toward the center of the boat, away from the pissed off looking alligator that had stopped to see what nearly ran it over, "We should go back." That was phenomenal. It was an actual, real, alive alligator – not at the zoo. It could swallow her whole, and it was a few feet in front of her, staring right at her. Things might have been adding up to be the best day of Aubrey's life.
"You really want to head back?" Mr. Beale asked, "I can turn around." He started to turn the wheel.
"Wait," Aubrey stopped him, "Let's just find one more. One of the babies."
"Hey, Aubrey, what do you call an alligator in a vest?"
Aubrey tilted her head in confusion.
"An investigator. Get it? It's a dad joke."
"Don't do that."
xxxxx
"I'm glad I never pissed you off as much as that tree," Beca says and sits down beside her. Her hand comes to rest on Aubrey's knee and she gives it a light squeeze. "You're crushing your diaphragm."
God damn it, Beca. Aubrey forces herself to sit upright with a straight back. The problem now is that anyone who looks at her can see her struggle. She places her hands down flat beside her to push herself upright and then just stays sitting like that. "Even if she was in on it," she says, out of breath, "I didn't want her to…" I didn't want her to just be missing until she dies like everyone else.
"I'll be right back." Beca pats her knee then stands.
Aubrey expects her to head back down the driveway for one reason or another, but, instead, Beca turns around and walks toward the inn. "Buddy groups of three," she enforces, turning slowly to watch her. Not that the rule stopped Stacie from wandering off.
"I'm literally right here," Beca says and takes a few steps inside. She stops next to the water pitcher and fills two plastic cups to the top. "Here," says as she brings them back outside and hands one to Aubrey. "Cheers." She sits back down and taps their cups together.
xxxxx
"When you lure in the small ones, you have to make sure you're not luring in the big ones too," Mr. Beale told her. He opened the gate to the back of the boat and stepped out onto the ledge.
"What are you doing?" Aubrey cried.
"Trust me, I do this all the time," Mr. Beale said, and Aubrey could see where Chloe had gotten her personality from, "I'm the black Steve Irwin."
"Steve Irwin got killed by a fish," Aubrey reminded him.
"He should have stuck to crocodiles." Mr. Beale pulled a piece of beef jerky out of his pocket and wiggled it in the water at something Aubrey couldn't quite see. "What a beauty."
Aubrey had to admit to herself – she did want to know what he was doing. She took a few small steps forward and saw the water ripple.
"Gotcha." Mr. Beale lunged forward and snatched an alligator barely the size of his lower arm from the water. He held its mouth closed with his hand and carried it back to the main part of the boat. "The trick is to dry off its foot." He sat down on his chair and grabbed a towel. He must have noticed Aubrey's perplexed look. "Look down."
Aubrey looked down at the floor. She hadn't noticed it before, but what she thought had just been a fancy paint job turned out to be the footprints of alligators.
"My wife thinks I stencil them on while I'm waiting for fish to bite."
"All of these are real?" Aubrey asked.
"All of them." He tucked the towel away and pulled out a clear container of black paint. "Always make sure you use non-toxic paint, and then seal it so if water gets in the boat, you won't lose your work." He dipped the thrashing alligators foot inside.
"Is this…legal?" Aubrey asked. "I don't think you're supposed to touch wild animals."
"You're the soon-to-be lawyer," Mr. Beale said, "You tell me. Here." He stood up and positioned the gator a few inches above the floor. "Press its foot down."
Aubrey couldn't wait for her entire life to be destroyed, because she helped Chloe's dad paint his boat in alligator feet. "I don't think so."
"Come on," Mr. Beale urged, "How often do you get to use an alligator as a paintbrush?"
"Never, because they aren't meant to paint with."
"Anything can be art, Aubrey."
"You sound like Chloe." Aubrey took a few steps forward. She did want to touch it. Just so she could say (or not say to the other Beales) she touched an alligator. "I am doing this against my better judgement." She needed him to know that. But she also needed him to like her if she and Chloe were ever going to tell them they were dating. She pressed the alligators foot against the boat and held it there for a few seconds.
"Good." Mr. Beale lifted the gator back up and grabbed the towel to clean its foot.
Aubrey looked around at all the prints – all of them the size of her hand or smaller. Except one. "Um," she said, motioning to a print near the back that was roughly the size of her head, "You said they were all real." That one could definitely not be real.
"Got my son to help me with that one," Mr. Beale said, "Good times."
xxxxx
"Hey, Aubrey."
Aubrey glances up from swirling the remaining water in her cup around in circles. She drank most of it. It sits too heavy in her stomach to down the rest.
"Nothing," Beca replies after a moment and starts to stand up.
Aubrey pulls her back down by the bottom of her shirt.
Beca taps her empty cup against the edge of the step they're sitting on and stares at everyone in the driveway. They've all stopped yelling for Stacie and are just quietly talking. "I know," she says thickly, "That I royally fucked up."
Aubrey won't disagree with that. She also can't concentrate over the tapping of the cup, and she takes it from her.
"This is hard," Beca says with a nervous laugh, "Uh, yeah, um…wow, okay."
Aubrey starts to have an inkling of what Beca's trying to say – but if she's wrong, well, that would be aca-awkward. She places both cups down beside her and impatiently frowns, waiting for her to spit it out. She might have a limited time left in this world, and if that's the case, she doesn't want to waste it listening to Beca ramble out random words.
"Aubrey, if you'll have me, I want another shot."
Aubrey's immediate reaction is to look at Chloe.
"I'm not trying to take Chloe from you," Beca says, "I'm talking about a shot with you."
Okay, maybe Aubrey doesn't quite understand. She furrows her brows.
"Look, I'm not saying you have to take me back to Queens with you and Chloe," Beca continues, "Maybe we can just start over and see where it goes." She looks at Aubrey for an answer.
Aubrey just stares at her. She almost wishes Beca would have asked her out again – just so she could have flat out said no. But leave it to Beca Mitchell to make everything complicated. Because, if Aubrey was being honest, a restart wasn't the unreasonable request she thought it would be. It didn't come with expectations that things would be different – just opportunities for them to be, for both of them. In the end, she can still decide she hates Beca and wants her gone – if they survive that long. She must be taking too long to think, because Beca gives her an over the top, opened mouth smile and holds out her hand for Aubrey to shake.
"Hi, I'm Beca. Congrats on playing the Cobb Energy Performing Arts Center."
Aubrey offers her the empty cup.
Beca knocks the cup out of her hand and sends it flying halfway down the driveway. "Dude, you're such a dick."
xxxxx
"Did you guys have fun?" Mrs. Beale asked, walking down the dock toward the boat as Aubrey tied it up.
Aubrey shared a look with Mr. Beale then smiled and nodded her head.
"Well, show me those fish," Mrs. Beale said.
Aubrey stood up once the rope was secure. She brushed her hands together and climbed back onto the boat with Mr. Beale to show off her fish. It felt even bigger now than it did when she caught it.
"I should warn you – I caught a doozy of a fish," Mr. Beale said as he lifted his fish off the ice, "Look at this."
"I've seen bigger," Mrs. Beale deadpanned.
Aubrey lifted hers up with both hands.
"Much bigger," Mrs. Beale says, motioning toward Aubrey's fish, "I'm going to have my work cut out for me with that one tonight."
"I'll help," Aubrey offered.
"I would love that," Mrs. Beale accepted the offer, "I have Chloe husking the corn right now."
"I'm sure she's absolutely loving that," Mr. Beale said, "How many do you think she's got done?"
"Absolutely none." Mrs. Beale pulled out her phone. "You two, stand together."
"You didn't bring the disposable camera?" Mr. Beale asked as he and Aubrey moved closer to each other with their fish.
"This isn't the early 90s anymore, Dear, we have a photo printer." Mrs. Beale held up her phone. "Say 'fish'."
xxxxx
They all gravitate back into the inn together without anyone needing to say anything. The search for flashlights is resumed by Fat Amy, Lilly, and Benji. God only knows what Jesse, Bumper, and Luke are doing. Aubrey excuses herself to the bathroom then shuts herself inside to look at what's left inside the envelope.
"Bree, are you sure you're okay?" Chloe comes knocking at the door after awhile.
Aubrey knows she should answer her – at least to let her know that she hasn't died in the bathroom. But she's too caught up. She slowly rips the photo of her, scribbled out, and Mr. Beale from their first fishing trip to unrecognizable shreds over the trashcan.