The morning finds them under the old ratty blanket, smelling of gasoline. Chloe wakes first. She scavenger-hunts for her clothes, puts them on while trying not to bruise Rachel in the cramped cabin with her elbows and knees. She does push her, and Rachel rolls over to hide her face in the back of the seat, pulling the blanket over her head and mumbling. This bares her feet and legs up to her knees, and Chloe pulls the blanket back down over them.

She puts on her boots and steps out to smoke, so as not to self-immolate with those Molotov fumes. The waves are lapping at the shore. The beach is empty; Frank's RV is still missing. Which feels like a good thing. Wouldn't want him to show up in the middle of the night and come checking out Chloe's parked truck with his dog. Not that she cares, but still, it's nobody's business what they're doing there. She blushes thinking about it and pulls out her phone. It shows 9:09 and 2 missed calls from Steph.

She dials back.

"Hey, Steph. No. Yeah, we just ended up crashing on the beach. Not the truck. We just came here to eat our donuts and passed out."

"We did eat the donuts though," Rachel, wrapped in the blanket, whispers, making Chloe jump and nearly burst out laughing.

"Shut up," she hisses back, covering the phone. "Yeah, we're on the way."

Rachel takes a drag from Chloe's cig, goes back into the cabin to get dressed, and five minutes later they're pulling into Harbor Inn's parking lot.

"So in February," Chloe is asking. "You get out of a trip to Eugene to watch a college basketball game and go all the way to Hamlet, by yourself, instead. Why the hell would you do that?"

"Oh," Rachel says, "Yeah. That happened."

"And why the hell didn't you tell me about it?"

"Long story short: my dad is involved in this land dispute between the Tilamook and the Prescott Foundation, and he's leaning pretty fucking heavily to the Prescott side, so I thought I could maybe help the tribe instead. Especially since I… was also trying to figure out this supernatural fire I started that forced them out of their previous spot near the Overlook."

Steph appears in the doorway when neither of them exit the truck. Chloe waves her over.

"Uh huh, and you didn't tell me because…" she says.

"I didn't tell you, because…" Rachel says, sliding closer to allow room for Steph to climb in. "One, I was embarrassed to talk about the supernatural stuff; two, I was embarrassed to admit still feeling guilty about that fire; and three - hey, Steph - I was embarrassed to talk to you about giving a shit about this lawsuit and trying to, like, get back at my dad."

Chloe scoffs, reversing back out of the spot.

"We have a plan?" Steph asks, looking at them in turn. "Am I interrupting?"

"Going to Blackwell to hunt down Stella Hill," Chloe says.

"Did you all spill a Molotov in here?"

"Huh?"

"The smell."

"That was the blanket, but I already tossed in the back. Does it still smell here?"

"Uh, yeah…"

"Maybe we should go back to the room and shower before we go," says Rachel.

Chloe coughs.

"We'll just be in and out, anyway. You're not gonna pass out, are you, Steph?"

"Be OK, with the windows open," Steph says. "I'd just maybe not smoke in here right now."

"You can roger that again," Rachel says.

At Blackwell, Rachel goes in alone to scout the sitch, while Chloe and Steph loiter in the parking lot. The cop presence has diminished. The parking lot is left unguarded.

"You look good," Steph says after studying Chloe's face.

"Huh?"

"Better, I mean."

"Uh huh?"

"Younger maybe?"

"What's this about, Gingrich?"

"You know what I mean. You're less… stressed. Less dark. I'm really happy she's back safe."

Chloe nods, dropping the playful edginess, becoming serious.

"We did it, Steph. And we wouldn't, if not for you."

"Pfft. Stop."

"I'm serious!"

"What did I do?"

"Everything I needed, and then some."

"Come on."

"No, listen, Gingrich. I know we were friends in school, before and after I got kicked out, but you graduated, left, started a life somewhere. If that was me, oh, hell, anybody else I know, and you called me out of the blue a year later saying Mikey's missing or something, I would feel bad and I would try to support you over the phone or whatever, and I would say things like 'Let me know if there's anything I can do," but… I wouldn't be catching the first plane to LA to help you find him. Unasked. I'm sorry, but that's just how it is. I suck. And you don't. You're a crazy person, and I love you."

Steph comes up and nearly squeezes the life out of her in a bear hug.

"You don't suck, Chloe. Everybody's different. Everyone's situation is different. Life. And you don't actually know, until someone calls you out of the blue and tells you Rachel Amber is missing."

When they pull apart, there is not a dry eye in ten-foot radius.

"The name does open some doors," Chloe admits.

The magic name's owner appears soon after.

"Someone cutting onions?"

"That's Gingrich," Chloe says. "What's the word?"

"The word is, there is a missing person case open in Arcadia Bay."

Chloe and Steph stare.

"What?"

"No one has seen or heard from Stella Hill since yesterday morning. Except you two, that is."

"And Prescott."

"Right."

"Think she skipped town?"

"Either that, or she was sent to the dark room. Everyone's pretty nervous."

"I hope she has friends who won't sleep for two weeks looking for her."

"Doubt it."

They stand around until Steph asks, "So what's our next step, then? Nathan?"

"Eh, for all the good it'll do. I think our next step is going to be to actually run away from here. But some of us need to graduate first. And some of us need to take some of us to Portland airport."

"What?" Steph asks. "Huh?"

"I'm gonna have to stay here for now," Rachel says. "Got to shake hands with the rest of Blackwell. Might start signing autographs."

She comes up and hugs flabbergasted Steph for a long time, whispering to her and then promising to come visit in the summer at normal volume.

"You I'm gonna see later, Price. Don't do anything crazy without me."

She disappears behind the school pool, and as Chloe follows her with her eyes, she swears she spots the step-douche's mustache peaking from the behind a tree, but when she looks again, there is no one there.

"So that's it?" Steph asks, when they're alone again in the Blackwell parking lot. "The end? You're going to leave the mystery unsolved?"

Chloe shrugs. "We'll see if it lets us. Let's go back to the motel. Pack your stuff."

"You sure you aren't just trying to get rid of me, so there is no one left to stop your murder spree?"

"You know what, actually? Maybe you should stick around for a bit. Since Ms. Blackwell is going to be in full nerd mode for the next two weeks, I'm gonna need someone to keep an eye on me. You could crash at my place. We'll hang without all the creepy supernatural bullshit, except the supernaturally creepy step-douche."

Steph grins. "Sounds fun."

Chloe laughs. "Don't you dare give me hope! You got finals, too! You already stayed too long. You have to go back. We will come and visit in a few weeks, though, like Rachel said."

They drive back down the hill, towards the ocean, downtown Arcadia Bay unfurling before them, and the ocean, and the lighthouse on the cliff.

We'll definitely come, as long as this shit hole town finally lets us fly beyond this isle, beyond this glass-domed prison.

The events of the last few weeks flash before her eyes.

I think we paid our dues.

I think we fucking earned it.

I think it's time.

The lighthouse is getting closer, both, a symbol of hope and a warning.

You can never escape the lighthouse here, the words come, her first proper flashback since the day before.

And when they do, her phone rings.

Pulling it out of her pocket, she slams on the brakes, skidding over to the side of the road and nearly into the ditch.

"What? What is it?" Steph asks.

She looks at Steph, at the phone, at the lighthouse in the distance.

This fucking town.

The screen says "MAX Calling…"