It takes Ollie too long to approach Hannah.
After Devin storms off, Ollie sits in the quiet for a long while. Hannah sits alone, too, settled across the campsite by the food packet pile and gear. She massages her wrist and, as he gets closer, Ollie spots a fresh bruise blossoming across her forearm. Guilt tightens in his gut. He sinks his spear into the earth beside her, startling her from her daze.
“Hey, you.” Ollie sighs. He motions to the bruise. “Does that hurt?”
Hannah shakes her head. “It’s not that bad.”
Ollie nods. He eases himself to the ground next to her. Even hours later, there’s a ringing in his ears and a dryness in his mouth. He thinks of last night and his blood runs cold. He wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Hannah. Devin and Sheridan may have distracted Liv and the creature, but Hannah was the only one who thought to use fire. He can’t find the words to say how grateful he is, so he just smiles.
“How are you?” Hannah asks, almost a whisper. “You said you were fine earlier, but…”
“Oh, you know … I’m breathing,” Ollie says. “Trying not to think about the shape-shifting dad-shaped monster that tried to…”
He tries to finish his sentence, to say what the thing actually wanted from him. But it’s a formless danger, a knowledge that the thing could’ve killed him but no distinct understanding of how or why. He wonders how it knew his father’s voice, the shape of his face. He wonders how any of this is possible. Maybe he’s already dead and this is all just some pre-death vision. He thinks so much it makes him dizzy.
“I wanted to thank you,” Ollie says, quieter. “You saved me.”
“Devin and Sheridan saved you,” Hannah clarifies. “It was luck that the fire did what it did. I just … I was really scared and didn’t know what to do. I’m glad it worked, but I’m not as brave as they are.”
Ollie rubs his eyes. In the dark behind his eyelids, he sees Liv again. Leaning in, tilting her head, widening her sickening smile. He feels a hand on his shoulder. The woods are getting to him—that’s all. None of them have been the same since last night. Tension is high, Devin is angry, Aidan is paranoid, Sheridan is oddly quiet. In a way, Hannah is a safe space. A place to come down from the fear, melting back into who he was yesterday.
“Can I tell you something?” Ollie says.
Hannah’s eyes widen. She puts down a stack of food packets and nods, angling to face him.
“The stuff about my dad never being proud of me and my grandma being dead … it’s not like I’ve never thought that before. But she also said that I’m too … broken? To have a normal life after this. Even if I try. And I know she was just saying things to hurt me, but…”
“Do you believe her?” Hannah asks.
“I don’t know.”
“You shouldn’t.”
Ollie pauses.
“You’re not too broken to keep going,” Hannah says firmly. “I mean, I don’t know your whole life story. But you’ve been keeping us alive out here. I think you can handle going back in the real world.”
Ollie sighs. He wants to believe her, and he knows in an objective sense that what she’s saying is true. But when he feels for a vision of his life beyond these trees, he’s got nothing. It feels pointless. Even if he makes it back to Portland, stands on a cement sidewalk again, eats a french fry, he imagines a part of him will still be in these woods. Like a bit of fabric snagged on the leaves, he’s sure he’s already left a piece of himself here. Something he can’t get back.
“You don’t look great,” Hannah says. “Do you need to lie down?”
“I’m okay,” he says. “I can’t tell how much of last night was weird hypnosis power and how much was me just … listening?”
“If you were listening, I think you should forget it. She was lying to make you feel bad.”
“But why?”
“I don’t know.” Hannah shifts again, this time fully facing him. Her kneecaps press against his and Ollie tries not to think too much about that. She runs a hand through her hair and says, “You’re not getting weaker out here, though. You’re getting stronger. We all are.”
Ollie nods. It’s impossible not to notice the way Aidan is more comfortable sticking up for himself, even to someone as intimidating as Devin. It’s impossible not to notice how much more Hannah speaks her mind. How much more controlled Devin is. He has no proof that Sheridan’s improved beyond what Devin says, but if it’s true that Sheridan led them back here, she’s at least grown a sense of empathy.
“You care about stuff more,” Hannah says. “You’re just … more you, I guess.”
“You don’t even know me.” Ollie laughs.
“I feel like I do, though,” Hannah says. “The stuff you told me about your dad … I do feel like I see you now.”
Despite himself, Ollie smiles. When Liv spoke to him, it was like he was being dragged over the jagged spikes of his own memories, seeing all the pieces of himself he’d done his best to tamp down. But when Hannah speaks, it feels different. When he talks to Hannah, he sees a world where their lives stretch out in front of them, good and bad all mingled together, all of it too precious to lose.
“Well,” Ollie says in a huff. “Saving me for the second time in twenty-four hours. I think I owe you dinner when we get out of here.”
Hannah laughs, picking up another handful of food packets. “Who knows what my dad’s gonna do when I get home. I might have to take you up on that.”
“You pick the time and place, we’ll make it happen,” Ollie says. Softer, he adds, “I don’t know what my dad will do, either. I guess the members of the Bad Dad Club have to look out for each other.”
Hannah pauses. Her smile fades slightly, the dark brown of her eyes swallowing what sunlight leaks into the clearing. Ollie is sure he’s overstepped; as objectively horrible as Hannah’s father has been to her, she’s never committed to saying she hates him. She’s never even admitted he’s bad.
But then she lets out a wisp of a laugh. “Bad Dad Club for life.”
Amid the chaos, Devin feels one absence like a sore spot in her side. Sheridan sits alone at her tree doing the same thing she’s been doing all day, dirt-smattered knees folded up to her chest, journal resting against them. Devin doesn’t want to talk to her. She doesn’t want to check on Sheridan, encourage her to talk to the others, ask her how she’s feeling. For the first time since they left to hike up the mountain, they aren’t inextricably connected at the hip.
She should be enjoying her newfound freedom.
Instead, she feels miserable and anxious, and not just because Aidan mentioned his suspicions. Sheridan isn’t the same girl she was when they started, and now that it’s the subject of conversation, Devin sees it clear as day.
She sinks to the dirt across from Sheridan, just far enough to keep their knees from touching. Without waiting for Sheridan to look up, she says, “Good stuff?”
Sheridan keeps her eyes on the journal. “Riveting.”
“You’re feeling okay?”
“We got attacked by a shape-shifter last night. Which, by the way, shape-shifters are real,” Sheridan says. “So, no. Not particularly.”
“Other than that.” Devin’s throat feels like sandpaper. “You’ve been really quiet. It’s freaking me out.”
“I thought you’d appreciate it.”
Finally, Sheridan glances up from the journal. There’s a wicked amusement to her stare that softens the peaks of Devin’s anxiety. Her lips slant in a smile that’s shaped more like a taunt. The Sheridan she’s suffered the last week or so is still in there. Quieter, maybe, but still there.
“I think you gave me Stockholm syndrome or something,” Devin says. “I used to wanna hit you every time you talked. Now, if I don’t hear you for half an hour, I’m worried you died.”
“Aw, that’s cute.”
Devin scoffs. She watches Sheridan turn back to the journal, watches the darting of her eyes as she reads. When she’s quiet like this, she’s almost tolerable.
“There’s a couple entries where this guy mentions seeing people on the trails,” Sheridan says, voice dimming from playful to more serious. She taps the page. “He kept seeing people and calling for help, but no one ever came to help him. I thought that was confusing before, but now…”
“… now you’re thinking it was the shape-shifters?”
Sheridan nods.
“Wow.” Devin shakes her head. “Why weren’t they attacking him like they attacked Ollie?”
“Well, here’s the thing,” Sheridan says.
She flips the notebook around, pointing to a scribble of frantic notes. Devin narrows her eyes to catch the words and she realizes how long it’s been since she actually read something:
I saw another person today. I think it was about ten in the morning, just after I’d found the water again. She was alone, walking along the water’s edge. When I called to her, she looked at me. I don’t know what to think. When I looked at her face, even from a distance, I recognized her. My aunt Eloise was out here. At least, I’m sure that’s what I saw. I think I’m losing my mind.
Devin scratches her head. “He saw someone he knew?”
“Apparently.” Sheridan wipes at her nose. “It lines up with Ollie seeing his dad. It would explain what I saw, too.”
“Oh.” Devin looks at her knuckles. She doesn’t think about her dream at the cabin because that was something different. Because she can’t explain that right now. Not to Sheridan. “I wanted to ask you about that. You told them you saw something that looked like you. Did it look like you, or like…”
“… my sister?” Sheridan finishes. “I don’t know. But something she said … I think it was being Theda. Not me.”
“That’s…”
Devin doesn’t know what to say to that. For a fraction of a second, she sees the thing impersonating Mr. Atwood again, but she chokes back that thought the moment it forms. Over and over, it wedges itself into her brain. She sucks in a breath, leaning a little closer to Sheridan.
“Why didn’t you tell me what you saw?”
Sheridan shrugs. “I told you I was seeing things.”
Devin glances back at camp. Ollie chats idly with Hannah while Aidan organizes their things. There’s a peaceful quiet, even after the attack. This group has fallen into step with each other. They understand each other, ebbing and flowing in harmony. It should’ve been obvious to Devin that she and Sheridan wouldn’t have the same kind of bond—they weren’t starting from zero, they were starting from the negatives—but it still eats at her that Ollie, Hannah, and Aidan can easily vouch for each other. When they ask her about Sheridan, she doesn’t know what to say. Is she different now? Maybe. Nicer? Probably not. Easier to stomach? Marginally.
“I need to talk to you about something,” Devin says, quieter.
Sheridan laughs. She snaps the journal shut and lays it at her side. When she eyes Devin, she’s already defensive. “I should’ve known you didn’t just miss me.”
“Calm down,” Devin says. “You know the other three have been bonding or whatever. They trust each other. And before we left, you were…”
“… a massive bitch to them,” Sheridan says. “Yes?”
At least she’s self-aware. Devin leans in and Sheridan’s expression darkens. She seems, for once, to understand that Devin is serious. Her brow furrows with semi-concern.
“I was talking to Ollie and Aidan earlier. Aidan was really hung up on how he was sure that was actually Liv. Now, he’s thinking other people in the group could be sabotaging us.”
“Oh.”
“And I think you saying that you saw something threw him off.”
“He saw something, too.”
“He’s really concerned about the one you saw looking like you.” Devin mulls over how to say what she means. “I think, if you told them about—”
“No, thanks,” Sheridan cuts in, sharp enough to draw blood. “So, what, he thinks I’m an evil creature?”
“He was just talking. He’s really scared. But … he thought it was possible.”
This time, Sheridan’s laugh is genuine. She leans back to the bark, frizzing the purple hair pooling at her shoulders. “Was he being serious? Me?”
“I told them you’re an asshole, but you’re not a shape-shifting monster,” Devin says. “I would know. I think they believed me because they know I wouldn’t defend you if I could help it.”
“True.”
There’s an uneasy quiet between them. Or maybe it’s too easy. It’s like the way they despise each other is an inside joke now. It’s a familiarity that makes Devin squeamish. She forces her smile to flatten. There was a point to telling Sheridan this.
“What if you showed everyone the journal?” Devin suggests. “It would help Aidan relax. If you had info, he wouldn’t be suspicious, you know?”
“Who cares what he thinks?” Sheridan muses. “I don’t.”
“Ollie does. Hannah does, too.”
“I don’t care what they think, either. I—”
“You should care what they think,” Devin says, cutting her off. She glances over her shoulder, then whispers, “There’s three of them and two of us. You need to care what they think.”
“Funny you count yourself on my side.” Sheridan folds her arms over her chest. “I would’ve said it’s four versus one.”
“I’m not on a side,” Devin says. “I’m just trying to keep the peace.”
“What are they gonna do, burn me at the stake?” Sheridan asks, but the laughter in her voice has died. “They already hate me.”
Devin sucks in a deep, aggrieved breath. “Just try, please?”
Sheridan stares at her, then sighs. She grabs the notebook and pushes herself back to her feet.
It’s not a bulletproof plan, but maybe it’ll help ease some of the tension. If they know Sheridan is a monster only in personality, Devin can salvage this.
The others notice the movement, their stares finding Sheridan. All three of them already distrust her. Aidan’s anxiety has spread like ink in water, coloring the whole group. When they look at Sheridan, they go on high alert. Devin’s gut twists.
“Hey,” Ollie says when Sheridan holds the journal directly out to him. “What’s this?”
“I, uh…” Sheridan looks at Devin, and it’s unclear if she’s asking for reassurance or conveying just how much she hates this. Devin motions her on. “When we were at the lake, I found this journal. It’s from some guy who hiked in this area back in the seventies. I’ve been reading it.”
This grabs Aidan’s attention. He sets a bundle of meal packets on the ground. The disbelief is plain on his face. “You just found it?”
“Yes, I just found it,” Sheridan says, clearly mocking. “It wasn’t bestowed upon me by a divine being. It was in a burnt-down cabin.”
“Why didn’t you tell us earlier?” he asks.
“I don’t know, because we’ve had a lot going on?” Sheridan says. “I’m telling you now.”
“There are other questions we should be asking,” Ollie cuts in, ever the diplomat. “What’s in it?”
Sheridan carefully eases to her knees, placing the journal in the dirt. The group gathers, Devin lingering at the back with her hands on her hips. Ollie’s eyes find her, questioning, and she motions to the journal. Truthfully, Devin hardly knows what’s in it. Whatever is is, it certainly seems to hold Sheridan’s attention. Considering where they found the journal, Devin’s spent the last few days assuming it wouldn’t be particularly helpful in getting them out of the woods. She doubts Josiah Templeton met an optimistic end in that cabin. It didn’t occur to her until now that, tucked into those pages, there might be something useful.
“The guy who wrote it was lost, just like us. The cabin was burnt down, so I don’t think he found a way out. But the part I read today talked about people this guy was seeing in the woods.”
“People?” Hannah asks.
“Yeah, people.” Sheridan flips to the next page, finger landing at the passage about the hiker’s aunt. “Specifically, people he knew.”
The group falls quiet. Sheridan looks over her shoulder and Devin gives her a quick nod. If Sheridan was working against them, there’s no way she would share this. Still, there’s a fear in her gut that this won’t be enough. That the group already decided against Sheridan before they ever reunited, and that Sheridan doesn’t have what it takes to steer them back.
“This … does sound like what we saw,” Aidan says. Softly, he asks, “Does it say anything about him seeing someone that looked like him?”
Sheridan’s hand stills. “It doesn’t say anything about him seeing one wrapped around a tree, either.”
“I’m just asking a question,” Aidan says, indignant. “Is no one else—”
“Thank you for showing us, Sheridan,” Ollie interrupts, placing his hand squarely on Aidan’s back like he’s a worked-up little brother. He flips to the next page of the journal, but hardly looks at the words. “Maybe you can keep reading and tell us what else there is?”
“Agreed,” Devin says.
Aidan eyes her like she’s kicked him. “I think all of us should read it, then.”
“I’m not reading all that,” Devin scoffs.
“I found it,” Sheridan says, snapping the journal closed. “I want to read it first. I won’t spoil the good parts, I promise.”
“But—” Aidan starts again.
“I think that sounds fair,” Devin says.
She moves around the group, crouching so that she can face Aidan. She’s struck again by how much smaller he is than the rest of them. His cheeks are still round with youth, eyes wide and teary like someone’s just taken his favorite toy. It occurs to her that she’s never asked how old he is. She softens a little.
“We’re all scared,” Devin says. “But we need to stick together. We can’t trust anyone else, but we should trust each other.”
“Agreed,” Ollie says, and he’s echoed by Hannah.
This time, it’s Sheridan who fixes Aidan with a softer expression. Quietly, she says, “We both saw something and we were too scared to say anything. I think we need to trust the others on this.”
Devin swallows.
After a moment, Aidan slumps. He holds his hand out and mutters, “Fine. Truce?”
Sheridan takes his hand and Devin expels a pent-up breath. The trees overhead shift and even though their peace is temporary, it’s a relief.
As the day wears on and the sun begins to set, they make a plan to keep moving. Even though it feels like danger is only seconds behind them, Devin imagines herself making it out of these woods. She imagines herself back in Portland sharing an apartment with Ollie, finding a job, becoming a human again. And over and over, her eyes land on Sheridan. She imagines Sheridan outside these woods, too.
She imagines neither of them will be alone anymore.
She doesn’t know what to do with that.