It was a day for miracles.

A balmy spring breeze rolled in from the sea, trading the scent of brine for wildflowers as it passed over the outskirts of Arcadia Bay. Max breathed it in and hoped it was a sign of good luck. Looking back over her shoulder, she could see her hometown shrinking with every step she took up the hills northeast of town. The midmorning sun blazed down, glistening on the grass beneath her sandals. The view all but begged her to take a picture.

Chloe ignored all that. She halted on the upward climb to slap palms to knees, her head sinking below her backpack as she gasped for air. Max stopped and put her hand on her best friend's shoulder to steady her.

"Damn hangover," Chloe wheezed. "Why the hell are we killing ourselves coming up here again?"

Max didn't answer right away, not even to point out that they hadn't even been climbing for ten minutes. She was distracted by the sheen on Chloe's skin, by the exact curve of that pale bare shoulder against her fingers. Chloe. Alive. Here with me. Was it only a week ago when I would wake up crying from missing you?

"You know why," Max replied, forcing her hand to let go. "We're going somewhere secluded enough so Rachel could train without anyone seeing."

"Then tell me why we can't do it in a nice, flat junkyard that's ten minutes from my place instead of in Bigfoot's backyard."

Max grinned. "Because I don't relish the thought of getting squished by a flying car when Rachel makes a tornado?"

Chloe grunted as she straightened up, her eyes chasing the receding form of the girl in the plaid shirt with rolled-up sleeves, who was steadily treading up the hill towards the forested hilltop.

"I swear, I don't know how she does it," muttered Chloe. "She drank as much as I did last night, so why's she spared the hangover?"

As if hearing her, Rachel turned and yelled, "Hey Max, is she slowing you down? We can come back for her later, you know!"

Chloe struggled to raise two half-hearted middle fingers before giving up. Too much work. Instead, she latched onto Max's arm to use as a crutch and resumed the climb.

"You realize," Choe huffed, "that my own mother can't get me out of bed on a Saturday morning, especially when I'm hungover?"

Max smiled, her pulse quickening a little as she circled an arm around Chloe. If there was one thing she'd learned these past few days, it's that Rachel was a master at getting what she wants. "Maybe you should save your breath instead of talking."

Chloe half-heartedly swatted at Max's arm, then gathered herself. "I can do this. My dad trained me better than this."

"C'mon, C!" Rachel cried. "Don't give up now. We're almost there!"

"That's—(huff )—what you said— (huff )—ten minutes ago!"

"Yep. And now, we're ten minutes closer than when we started! It's worth it, I promise!"

Max laughed. Chloe made another irritated noise and said, "So far this campout's been pretty butt."

"So not," Max said.

"You're a butt."

"No you."

"What are you two talking about over there?" Rachel shouted over her shoulder.

"Nothing," they replied together.

"Totes butt," Chloe muttered.

Rachel's campsite was a little clearing beside a ridge that overlooked the town. The surrounding pine trees made it seem like a nest and assured them some privacy as they worked. Rachel called it the Aerie, and she was right—the view was worth the climb.

"You can see the whole town from here!" Max breathed. Indeed, Arcadia Bay seemed like a collection of miniatures, and the lighthouse to the west looked like one of Chloe's cigarette stubs half-buried in the ground.

"Told ya," Rachel said, grinning, her hands on her hips. "Pretty enough for a picture, huh?"

In the uneasy silence that followed that hint, Max thought of the camera at the bottom of her bag and found herself without an answer. She was grateful when Chloe said, "Eh, s'alright."

Rachel quirked an eyebrow at the blue-haired girl sitting on a nearby rock. "Finally got your breath back, Clover?"

Chloe spat out the water she had just chugged from her bottle. "Don't call me that! I sound like a farm animal."

"Well, since you don't like the view very much, you don't have to look at it." Rachel reached over and pulled the beanie over Chloe's eyes.

"Hey!" Chloe made a grab for Rachel, but the blonde laughed and twirled away from her hands. Grumbling, she adjusted her beanie. "Don't we have stuff to do or something?"

She was right, of course. Now that they've caught their breath, it was time to get to work. "What would you like to practice today?" asked Max, coming to stand beside Rachel.

Rachel walked to the middle of the clearing, stretching her arms like she was about to rehearse a dance. "Since I started this week with a tornado, I thought we could work on controlling the wind. Also because Chloe over there gets antsy when I play with fire."

"Yeah, none of that." Chloe made an X with her forearms. "Last time you lit something up in the woods, you burned down an entire park and like six acres of forest."

Max's eyes widened at this, but Rachel merely simpered. "Will you relax? Max taught me how to stop it, remember? And besides..." She gestured to the woods to the north. "Look at how quickly it all grew back. You'd swear it was magic."

"Uh-huh. Let's stick a pin on fire stuff till you get a handle on your powers."

"Fair enough." Rachel turned to Max, eyes sparkling. "Let's get started, shall we?"

For the next few hours, Max watched Rachel summon one tornado after another, each one large and powerful enough to rush past the treetops and shake pinecones from their branches. And each time it rose that high, Rachel would always shut it down without fail.

Except that wasn't what they were going for. And given her flushed face, clenched fists, and deepening scowls, Rachel knew it too.

When they hit their forty-sixth trial, Max said, "Maybe you should take a breather, Rachel."

Rachel ran her fingers through her tousled hair, taking one heavy breath after another to control herself.

Chloe plunked down on the grass. "Well, we established a couple things," she said, ticking off her finger. "First, you need your hands to use your powers, which is important. Second, once you get things started, it can keep going on its own, without any intervention from you at all. And third—"

"WHY CAN'T I MAKE IT DO WHAT I WANT?" screeched Rachel. Then she huffed and said, "Sorry. It's so frustrating. I mean, I can start and stop them just fine, but the stuff in between—"

"Hey, it's okay," Max said, putting a hand on her arm. "This isn't like a school subject that you can master in one go. We'll figure it out. Don't worry."

"I-I know. Thanks, Max." Rachel pinched her nose and lowered her head. "I'm annoyed to be wasting your time like this. And we've been at it for hours!" She paced around the clearing. "What am I missing?"

Chloe yawned and stretched her arms overhead. Wondering, Max leaned over and whispered, "You're not too concerned about this."

"You think this is the first time I've seen Rach lose it over some big challenge?" Chloe replied. "Dude, she gets super intense just rehearsing her roles. Don't worry, she always make it work out in the end, you'll see. She's awesome like that—and really annoying."

Chloe hauled herself to her feet and announced, "Anyway, we're losing daylight. I think I'll get started on finding some wood for the campfire."

"Yeah, okay," said Rachel, barely listening.

Chloe threw Max a questioning look. Max nodded and mouthed, We got this.

Chloe shrugged, gave a salute, and whistled as she disappeared among the trees.

Max turned to Rachel, who had stopped to stare out at the town far below them. "You okay?"

"Hmm? Yeah, yeah. Just thinking." Rachel puffed a blonde strand away from her face. "You ever get that feeling, Max, when you know you should be good at something, but aren't?"

"I feel that way every time I take a bad picture," Max confessed. "The thought of all the money I've burned on polaroid film makes me want to bury my head in the ground."

Rachel half-turned to her, the corner of her mouth quirking. "I should have a look at these bad pictures of yours, Max. Something tells me you're a lot harder on yourself than you need to be." Then she shook her head. "I keep wondering why I can't get a handle on my powers."

"Like I said, Rachel. We'll work this out. It's only a matter of time."

Rachel turned her gaze back out over Arcadia Bay. "I wonder how much time we have," she said softly. "I don't like the feeling that he's out there somewhere, planning something, getting ready to strike at me for ghosting him."

The notion lanced through Max's heart like a piece of ice. She touched a hand to the other girl's shoulder, giving comfort even as she sought some for her own. "Rachel..."

Rachel's fingers touched Max's own. "It's fine. No use scaring ourselves over something we can't control. Let's just be prepared." She turned to face Max fully. "Can I ask, did you ever have trouble controlling time?"

Max shook her head. "I raised my hand and picked the most convenient moment to rewind to. Of course, that control came with a trade-off."

Rachel nodded. "At least I'm spared the migraines and bloody nose."

"My powers had limits. Yours don't seem to. You're like a—a living battery, Rachel."

Rachel snorted. "More like an industrial fan with only one setting: max." She laughed as she realized the pun. "Well, you're my lucky charm, Caulfield. How do we do this? Because I'm not keen on starting things up again without some kind of strategy here."

Max sat cross-legged on the grass and ran a hand through her hair. "What've we tried so far?"

Rachel sat down next to her, propping her chin on her hands. "We've tried relaxing, which works great when I want things to stop, but not for much else. We've tried the opposite—focusing as hard as I can to control the tornado. We tried emptying the mind. That worked about as well as anything else." She threw up her hands. "Can't shape it, can't move it, can't even make it smaller. It just won't listen. I feel like I'm training a fucking cat."

So it's not a matter of focus. Max frowned in thought. She'd long concluded that their abilities worked differently. Rewinding took an effort of will, but Rachel could bring a tornado or a lightning bolt into existence with little to no effort. Yet exerting fine control—moving the tornado around, directing where the lightning bolt should hit—that was a whole other thing.

They needed something more. Max thought back to all the meditation techniques she'd learned from her teacher. None of them seemed to apply here. What had they missed?

"You know what's funny?" Rachel said, picking at the grass near her foot. "I chose air because I thought it'd be the easiest to work with. It's the wind, for god sakes. Birds use it to fly without even thinking. I didn't realize it would be such a—"

"Wait," Max said, eyes widening. "What did you say?"

"I didn't realize controlling air would be so hard."

"No, before that. About birds."

"I...was just describing how birds use the wind to fly." She peered at Max, the edge of her mouth lifting. "Did you get an idea?"

"It's a hunch," said Max, but her heart was fluttering inside her chest like it too had wings. Would this work?

"Well, don't keep me in suspense. What is it?"

"It's as you said," Max began, "When birds fly, they don't think about air. Maybe we've been going about this all wrong."

She sprang to her feet, pulling Rachel up with her. "What if it's not a matter of thinking, or even of focus? What if it's...instinctive? Like a bird flying? Or choosing the right moment to snap a photo? Or making art?"

Rachel stared at her, then chuckled. "What, should I paint with all the colors of the wind?" She giggled harder at Max's moue. "Okay, okay, you're being serious. What do you suggest we do?"

"We follow your instincts. What's your favorite art—acting, right? Can you think of a role you love?"

Rachel's eyes sparkled. "I once played the female version of Prospero in a production of The Tempest. I was a sorceress who could control the weather."

Max clapped her hands together. "I can't think of a better example! So, remember how it felt to play her. Feel your way through, like you're someone who has the power to do this."

"Like it's a role." Rachel nodded once, seemingly lost in thought. For a moment, Max was struck by how lovelier she looked out here in the wilderness—the sun caught in her hair, the set of her jaw, the way her eyes gazed in the distance. She had never seemed more in her element, and Max wished she could have seen her onstage.

Finally, Rachel said, "There's something I'd like to try. But I need you to trust me."

"Sure," Max replied. "What is it?"

Rachel worked her shoulders in a circle and kept her gaze leveled at the trees. "When I'm up for a part, I do the work—I memorize my lines, I internalize the character. But when I'm on stage, it stops being work and becomes play." She offered her hand to Max. "So I figured we should play."

Max took her hand with hardly a thought. "What do you mean?"

"You'll see. Ready?"

Max drew a deep breath and nodded once. In response, Rachel clutched her hand tight and closed her eyes.

For a moment, nothing happened. They stood there, facing the forest, hearing only by songs of hidden birds, the rustling grass, and their own unhurried breathing.

Then the wind came—a gentle breeze twisting against Max's jeans. It swirled up her legs like eddies in a stream. Then it came up to her waist. A second later it was roaring in her ears, clutching her entire body like she were weightless. Max couldn't suppress a gasp; what was a river was now an invisible giant, cupping them in its hands and lifting them from the ground.

Max swallowed. "R-rachel?"

But Rachel was in some other world behind her closed eyes. A small, tender smile played on her lips as she recited: "I swear to thee—we shall fly beyond this isle—the corners of the world our mere prologue."

Max tore her gaze from Rachel and looked down. The tornado had lifted them in a bed of air, five feet from the ground. They were facing the sky, their clothes rippling in the wind, limbs spread across a bed of swirling air that smelled of leaves and grass.

"Raaaachel?"

The other girl's eyes flickered open and they immediately stopped rising, suspended in space with hands still joined. She glanced down before locking eyes with Max.

"Holy shit—we're flying!"

"Yes, we are! Can you keep it that way?"

Rachel threw her head back and laughed, her tresses glowing like a halo in the afternoon light. "Just watch me, Max!"

Her joy was contagious—despite her terror, Max couldn't help but feel giddy as well. Together they bobbed through the air, screaming in laughter, arms spread like wings as they rollercoastered on the wind. Max's stomach lurched with every dip, but the tornado caught them without fail. She could barely believe it—Rachel was in complete control.

The rattle of falling wood caught their attention. They turned mid-air to see Chloe standing slack-jawed among the trees, the blue lost amidst the white of her eyes. The sticks she'd collected were scattered and forgotten at her feet. "Fuck me!" she cried.

Rachel laughed and held out her hands. "Chloe—come on!"

Mouth still agape, Chloe sprang towards them, jumping up and down like a kid demanding to be picked up. Rachel gestured and a second tornado formed beneath Chloe, lifting her up into Rachel's orbit. A heartbeat later they were in each other's arms, laughing as they spun in a slow dance, a whirlwind within the whirlwind.

Max couldn't help the joy bubbling inside her as she watched them. And if she felt a twinge in her heart at seeing them together, well, that was something she could live with.

The sun was sinking below the sea by the time Rachel brought them safely back on the ground. Chloe had wanted to keep flying under the moonlight, but Max pointed out that they hadn't even set up camp yet and the tornado managed to scatter the wood they'd collected.

A full moon was hovering over the trees by the time they had finished setting up the tent and the campfire. Rachel was playing some tunes on her phone. "Marina Diamandis is my spirit animal," she announced, flopping down by the campfire. "God, I haven't had this much fun in years."

"Yeah," Chloe chortled, falling onto her back beside her. "Loads better than supergluing Victoria's locker shut."

"You...actually did that?" Max asked, kneeling across the fire from them.

"Yep. For drawing dicks on Kate's prayer group posters. Someone's gotta stick up for the bunnies."

"You did it because it's Victoria," Rachel corrected her.

"Yeah, okay, you got me. I like spilling her gravy."

"Phrasing." Rachel turned to Max. "Anyway, I don't know about you, but all that fun's got me starving."

"Same," Chloe replied. "Too bad we can't get pizza."

"Unless they can deliver by drone!" laughed Max.

"Don't worry, I came prepared." Rachel got up and rooted around her backpack. "I got the cooking pot here. Max, could you get the satchel in the tent? I stowed some cans of corned beef in there."

Max crawled towards the tent, but Chloe pounced in front of her, blocking the way. "Dude," she hissed, "one of us has to do the cooking tonight. Do NOT hand the food over to Rachel."

Max took in her friend's serious expression. "Why not?"

"Because—okay, there's no nice way to say this—Rachel's the literal worst at cooking."

"I—what? Chloe, are you serious?"

The taller girl gripped Max's shoulders. "Trust me. She never follows recipes. She'll do her own thing and it's usually horrible. I'm begging you, Max. If you hand over the cans she'll make something completely inedible and we'll be starving by morning."

A sudden breeze blew a dishcloth smack into Chloe's face. "Just what are you telling her, Price?" Rachel stomped over to them, pot in hand and wrists planted on her hips.

"Nothing!" Chloe peeled the offending rag from her head.

"I heard you, you know! What do you mean I'm bad at cooking? Two weeks ago you were gobbling down those brownies I made you!"

"They were as tough as bricks, Rachel! I had to wait three days before they left my system!"

"It's fine, you two," Max sighed, taking the pot from Rachel. "You did a lot of work today, so let me cook, okay?"

"But...oh fine," Rachel muttered. Then she brightened as she offered Max a handful of leaves. "Here. I found some mulberry leaves nearby. We can use them in place of cabbage!"

Staring down at the handful of leaves, it dawned on Max that Chloe wasn't exaggerating. "Uh, that's okay. My dad taught me a thing or two."

A half-hour later found them sitting around the fire again, eating corned beef with slices of bread.

"Thanks for saving our dinner, Max!" Chloe said around a mouthful of food, right before another breeze hurled the dishcloth into her face.

"Wow. Really, Chloe?" said Rachel.

"You're getting too good at that." Chloe peeled the rag off of her face. "Hey, it's not my fault you happen to be bad at that one thing."

"Oh, like you're one to talk." Rachel leaned towards Max and stage-whispered, "You should know that Chloe sucks at giving gifts."

"My gifts are awesome and don't let anyone tell you otherwise!" spluttered Chloe.

"Yeah? Like that time you gave me a potato for Valentines?"

"A potato?" Max gave Chloe a quizzical look.

"See, that's exactly what I mean when I say my gifts are awesome!" Chloe waved her spork at Rachel. "A rose is going to wilt in a week. Potatoes last fucking forever—and if that's not a great symbolism for relationships, I don't know what is."

Rachel glared at her. "You gave me a potato shaped like an ass."

"Like a heart, Rach—it was shaped like a heart! Plus, there's so much you can do with potatoes: bake 'em, mash 'em, make fries with 'em, put 'em in corned beef—"

"You gave someone a vegetable for Valentine's," Max pointed out. "Chloe, I can't even."

"You can turn them into batteries, Max! Batteries!"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Instead of Clover, I'm calling you Potato Girl."

"Hey!"

Max hid her smile behind her hand as she watched the two of them bicker. She could imagine them going at it as they hung out in the junkyard after school. Not for the first time, she wished she could join them every day instead of only on weekends.

"I know one gift of mine that's hella awesome." Chloe set her plate on the grass and tugged at Max's sleeve. "Break out that camera, Maximus! Time to waste some film!"

The smile froze on Max's face.

"Hey, great idea!" Rachel chimed in. "Let's take a selfie by the fire!"

"Uh, s-sure." Max forced herself to walk to her bag. She had been banking on everyone forgetting about the camera. But by the excited glow on Chloe's face, she was keen on Max using it.

Suddenly, everything Max's instructor had taught her about relaxing dissolved from her mind. It's just a selfie, she told herself. You're going to be fine. You've taken loads of selfies, sometimes first thing in the morning!

She pulled the camera from her bag and stared at it. It looked back at her with its unblinking idiot eye, as if daring her to try and use it. It dawned on her that it had been over three weeks since she last took a photo.

You can do this, she told herself, bringing the camera over to her two friends. Dammit, Max. Chloe gave you her dad's camera. Don't disappoint her.

"Max? What's wrong?" She hadn't been aware of Chloe's approach until blue-tipped fingers closed around her shaking hands.

"Max? Are you okay?" Rachel came close as well, trying to catch her eye.

The words came automatically to Max's lips. "I'm fine."

"No you're not," Chloe stated, her frown sending a stab of fear through Max. "You're sweating, and your hands are cold."

Max swallowed a hard lump in her throat. How did it come to this? They were having such a good time tonight.

"I—I can't," Max whispered. "I'm sorry, I can't."

"What do you mean?" Chloe said. "Max? Hey, c'mon, look at me."

"Max, you can talk to us," Rachel said, "Do you mean you can't take a picture? "

Max didn't know how or where to begin, but her mouth uttered the words for her. "It's...it's Jefferson."

Chloe scowled. "Jefferson? What does he have to do with..." Her words died as comprehension dawned on her. "Oh. Oh...fuck."

By the grim look on her face, Rachel also understood. "The Dark Room," she said.

"Shit," muttered Chloe. "I am bad at gifts."

Max peered up at their faces, but it was hard to read their expressions now that her vision was blurring. "I want to use this camera, Chloe. It's your dad's. It's so special. But just holding it like this, even the thought of hearing it click—"

"Shh! Forget the stupid camera!" Chloe gently pried it from her fingers and set it down on her bag. "I want to know you're okay."

"Come sit with us." Rachel took Max's hand and led her to settle down by the fire, with Chloe following a moment later. The two girls sat on either side of Max, their hands on both of hers. They sat quietly for a long moment, staring at the flames. Max felt her shame prickle deep at the thought of ruining their fun; she wanted nothing more than to hide in her sleeping bag for the rest of the night.

Chloe snapped open a beer can and drank it down. "If I had actual time powers," she muttered, "I'd strangle Jefferson in his crib."

"Dark, Chloe," Rachel remarked, picking up her own can. "But I'm with you. I promise, Max, he's not going to get away with hurting you. Or any of us." She smoothed the tousles in Max's hair. "Hey, I'm really sorry we pressured you."

Max shook her head. "You don't have to be. You didn't know."

"Still," Rachel sighed, "we did it anyway. I can't even imagine what it's like for you."

"Me neither," Chloe said, squeezing Max's knee. "But you don't have to face it alone. We're here for you, okay? So you pick up that camera only when you're good and ready."

Max nodded, not knowing what to say.

"I hope you do go back to it, Max," Chloe said. "Actually, I know you will. Your pictures are hella awesome. It's your art. Don't let him take that away."

"And if you ever want to talk," Rachel added, "if things get difficult, just call us. We'll make time for you. You're not alone. Okay?"

"That—that means a lot." Max shifted in her seat, then leaned into Chloe's warmth. "And I don't feel alone."

Another quiet moment passed, filled by the crackling fire. The moon illuminated the camp, and somewhere in the trees, an owl crooned in greeting. The lights of Arcadia Bay spread before them in a poor imitation of the starry sky.

Chloe said, "We ought to have a team name."

Rachel frowned at her. "A what now?"

"We've got a superpowered drama queen, a time-traveling badass, and me! That just screams for a name. Work with me here." She scratched her forehead. "We're like those three witches in Macbeth! Or better yet—those Greek revenge goddesses. What were they called again?"

"What," said Rachel, "the Erinyes?"

"No, no, the other thing."

"Furies?" offered Max.

Chloe slammed her fist into her palm. "That's it! We're the motherfucking Furies!"

"Furies and Erinyes are the same thing, Chloe," Rachel pointed out.

"Whatever, Drama Queen. Furies rule."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Maybe we should name ourselves something more relatable, closer to home. Any ideas, Max?"

Max thought for a moment. "What about...Pirates?"

Rachel threw a smirk at Choe. "There you go. So simple. So relatable."

"Huh," Chloe slung her arm over Max's shoulder. "That really takes me back. Guess this marks the return of Captain Bluebeard and Long Max Silver, huh?"

"Yeah," Max said. The memory of her playing buccaneers in Chloe's backyard lit a smile on her face. "Best-pirates forever then?"

"Yeah! Best-pirates forever!"

Max paused, then said, "I think we should probably...make up a codename for Jefferson as well. So we can safely mention him in public."

"Huh, that's a good idea, Max," said Rachel. "We should come up with several, just to be safe." She snapped her fingers. "How about we call him 'Judge Frollo'?"

"Hmm," Max said. "That means Nathan would be Quasimodo."

Chloe threw Rachel a pointed look. "And I suppose you get to be Esmeralda?"

"Damn straight," Rachel replied, grinning. "Which makes Max here the dashing Captain Phoebus de Chateaupers. As for you, Chloe," she gave a dismissive wave of her hand, "well, I suppose you can be my goat."

"Hey!" Chloe gave Rachel a little shove, inciting laughter from the blonde.

Max smiled and ducked her head. "Well, it's kinda appropriate, Chloe. You—"

Chloe's blue eyes flashed at her. "Don't you dare finish that sentence."

"—really like grass."

Groans from either side of her. "Your ass is grass, hippie!" Chloe spluttered, and Max's voice dissolved into giggles as Chloe's fingers wriggled against her midsection.

Rachel laughed along for a while. Then she leaned back on her arms, took in the view of Arcadia Bay, and whispered, "It was only a garden a moment ago."

"Wha?" Chloe said, still snickering. "You say something, Rach?"

"Nah." Rachel shrugged, breathing in the cool night air. "Just moonstruck, I guess."

They talked until the campfire burned down to embers, then climbed into the tent to talk some more, laying there in the dark. Max couldn't remember exactly when she passed out, but it was to the sound of Chloe murmuring in her ear, and the warmth of Rachel's hand on her arm.

She wasn't alone. And that made everything she'd done to get here worth it.

Chloe dreamed.

She was beginning to figure out when it was going to be one of those dreams, though this one started innocuously enough. She was flying through the air, whooping and waving her pirate hat as she rode on the back of a giant raven. The bird took her down to a sandy beach where she found Frank sitting on a sunbed, smoking weed while eating bean-stuffed tacos. Pompidou lounged beside him, chomping down on a bleached bone.

Frank's head was a giant pineapple, complete with his stupid face and scraggly beard. "What's eating you, Chloe Price?" he trilled as he bit down on a taco. "What's eating you? What's eating—?"

Chloe slapped him across the face to shut him up, then grabbed the bag of weed beside his chair and dashed towards the nearby jungle. Spotting a hole in the ground, she jumped inside to hide.

Here, the dream shifted. She was no longer in her pirate get-up but in her usual tank top and jeans. She was also no longer crouched at the bottom of a hole, but standing on an escalator heading down into the earth.

She was sure she had seen this before in some movie—a long escalator that led into a subway. Or the underground, as the Brits called it. Except this one had no end in sight, a tunnel full of white tiles and antiseptic fluorescent lights. To her left, behind a glass divider, another escalator slid steadily upwards. She could hear nothing beyond the gentle hum of motors below her feet. As she passed poster after poster of random gibberish, she wondered if the tunnel had a bottom at all.

Someone behind her was humming a country tune. Chloe turned to see her father coming down to meet her.

"Hey there, sweetheart," William said, smiling as he stopped on the step above her. He was still dressed in his blue plaid shirt and jeans, with not a blonde strand out of place on his head.

"Dad." Chloe felt glad to see him amidst her bizarre situation. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged, inclined his head. "Just wanted to see how my little girl's doing. And I'm happy to see she's doing her best."

Chloe reached out to take his hand. He felt solid. Warm. Alive. Chloe's heart beat a painful rhythm in her chest. "Is this a dream?" she asked. "Or are you actually talking to me?"

William spread his hands. "'She thrusts her fists against the post and still insists she sees the ghosts.'"

"Are you going to give me a straight answer on anything, ever?" Chloe gazed about, taking in the glare of the white lights on the rubber handrails. "Where the hell are we even going?"

"Funny choice of words," he said, before shifting his gaze to the left. "My, she's also giving it her best, isn't she?"

Chloe followed his gaze to the side. Beyond the glass partition, Max was fighting to run down the up escalator. The camera swung from her neck like a dead albatross. Her eyes pleaded with Chloe as she yelled and pounded her fist on the glass, but Chloe heard no sound above the soothing machine hum and the hiss of the rubber handrails.

"What're you saying?!" Chloe cried. "Max, I can't hear you!"

But the panicking girl made no sound at all as she pounded and shouted through the partition. She was pointing at something further down. Chloe turned her gaze to see, far below, an unmistakable cascade of golden hair flowing onto a crimson plaid shirt. Rachel stood several steps down the escalator, one pale hand on the handrail as she faced the seemingly endless descent.

"I've never been much use at games, Chloe," William said. "Actually, I was downright crap at it. You remember how you used to beat me at every session of Stratego and Risk?"

Chloe was barely listening. Something about Rachel—her silence, how she seemed frozen where she stood—made Chloe want to touch her and make sure she was real.

"But you know," her father continued, "the thing about winning all the time is that it doesn't teach you much. You don't learn where your weaknesses are, and it gets pretty hard to tell when someone else's got you beat."

"I think I know a bit more about losing than I care to." Chloe's feet were moving long before she even realized it; they carried her down the steps towards Rachel. To her left, Max struggled to keep pace with her as she descended.

"You've got dark times ahead of you, daughter mine," her dad called after her. "I ain't sure you're ready. To be fair, I don't see how you can be."

Chloe paused at the step behind Rachel, then reached out a hand to touch the other girl on the shoulder. She was real too, but not warm. No—she was burning like a fever. Or a forest fire.

"You gotta learn, Chloe." Her father's voice was far away, nearly an echo in her ears. "People are at their weakest when they think they've already won."

Chloe forced Rachel to turn around—and her blood turned to ice. Rachel was much the same—her hair so bright, her fair skin still unblemished. But her eyes were empty sockets, little furnaces where red fires raged.

Rachel was burning from the inside.

Chloe woke up and gasped, "I'm not losing her!"

No one answered in the gloom. It was only a dream, she thought, licking her dry lips. Only a dream, but her hands were clammy and cold sweat glued her hair to her forehead. She waited for her racing heart to slow, then sat up and rubbed the grit from her bleary eyes. Looking at the wan grey light filtering into the tent, she realized it was very early in the morning. Probably dawn.

She peered to her right. Max was still asleep beside her, curled up into a ball with her head cushioned by her hand.

Next to Max lay an empty sleeping bag.

"Rachel?" A sudden shot of adrenaline drove the last bit of sleep from Chloe's brain. Shoving the covers off of her body, she crawled to the tent flap and poked her head out. "Rachel?! "

A spring mist blanketed their campsite. Chloe peered frantically about, then her chest loosened when she laid eyes on Rachel standing a few steps away. In an eerie moment of déjà vu, she had her back to Chloe, facing the trees. She was barefoot and wearing only her white t-shirt and shorts, yet she didn't seem the least bit cold.

Am I still dreaming? Chloe wondered. Are we both?

In a monotone, Rachel said, "Chloe, do you hear that?" And without waiting for a response, she walked towards the trees.

"Wait!" Chloe cried as Rachel vanished into the mists. "Fuck!"

Chloe ducked back into the tent. Max was still out cold—there was no point in waking her and losing more time. Rachel could get lost out there. Grabbing her jacket, Chloe stumbled out of the tent.

The forest was swathed in mist and silence. She plunged through it, pushing past shrubs as the cold air pierced her flesh like needles. No animals appeared to be awake at this hour, which suited Chloe just fine. Last thing she needed was to run into a freshly woken bear.

She couldn't see Rachel through the mists and the trees. Breathing clouds into the frigid air, Chloe pulled her jacket tighter around her body and followed the moist footprints left on the grass. Now and then, she would catch a dark shape receding into the grey void between the trees. "Rachel!" she panted, hurrying on. "Rachel, wait up!"

She rounded a line of trees and nearly collided with Rachel, who stood rooted on the ground, staring into the mists. "Oh thank God," Chloe exclaimed, grabbing her by the arms. "Rach, you scared me! Why the hell'd you run off like that?"

Rachel turned to look at her, and for an instant Chloe was terrified that her eyes would hold nothing but fire. But to her relief, she found herself looking into the same hazel gaze she had loved for so long. They seemed unfocused, half-awake, and again Chloe wondered if Rachel were sleepwalking.

"Can't you hear it?" Rachel asked. She put a hand over her heart, as if it pained her.

"Hear what?" Chloe shrugged off her jacket and wrapped it around the other girl's shoulders, though she doubted Rachel felt the cold. "I don't hear any—"

Chloe paused and really listened. She could hear something after all—a long, dull roar, a slight rumbling in the earth that hinted at something monstrous moving close by.

"What the fuck is that?" Chloe said, and realized she was whispering.

Rachel did not reply. Instead, she turned and lifted both hands. A stiff breeze blew through the pines and the mists parted like a curtain.

Some twenty yards below them, cupped by a circle of hills, lay a square construction site, a wide clearing that had been shorn clean of grass and trees. A ten-foot-tall chain-linked fence ran a hundred feet on each side. Stacks of lumber sprawled on the north end, an idle cement mixer lay to the south, and to the east sat a squat wooden office with a corrugated steel roof and a narrow red door.

Chloe's gaze was drawn to the center of the clearing, where an enormous pit had been gouged into the earth. The hole was less than three feet deep, but she got the impression that it was meant to go deeper, given the men with shovels and hard hats milling around it. A man in green overalls stood at the edge, reviewing a blueprint as he shouted instructions to the rest.

The roaring grew louder, and its source became apparent when a yellow construction truck rolled down a new dirt road that cut through the forest. It came to a halt beside the unmarked gate. Chloe and Rachel watched, riveted, as the passenger door opened and a man in a dark suit jumped out, surveying his surroundings.

Chloe sucked in an icy lungful of air; she grabbed Rachel's hand and dragged her behind the nearest tree. Peering around the trunk, they watched the newcomer circle towards the open gate. The foreman met him halfway, shaking his hand and giving him a hard hat to wear.

"Him," Rachel growled. Chloe nodded, jaws tightening, her gaze never leaving the man in the suit. Mark Jefferson took one more look at the surrounding forest before putting on his hat and following the foreman into the site.