For the next few days, the group is relatively peaceful. Peaceful, but cautious. They keep to themselves, eating, moving, and sleeping in silence to avoid giving away their location. It’s impossible to tell if they’re being watched. They hike without breaks, Sheridan and Aidan co-leading the expedition, each sticking to their own map and occasionally pausing to argue in sharp whispers. Ollie wakes each morning expecting to find himself face-to-face with another monster. When he manages to sleep, he sees his father again, head hanging at his back, calling him home.
They reach their campsite hours earlier than expected and Ollie blinks at it, grasping for memories of how they got there. Once they unpack, set up their tarps, and pick out their meals in silence, the quiet makes them antsy. Hannah sits alone, running fingers through her hair to straighten it out. Aidan stacks the supplies they have left, then seemingly changes his mind and begins stacking them a different way. Devin carves a stick while Sheridan fiddles with her shoelaces. They’re alone, but they’re not far apart. More and more, the two of them seem to gravitate to the same corners of camp.
Ollie hasn’t missed that change.
When the silence gets so thick it’s unbearable, Sheridan stands.
“Okay, this is getting insane.” She motions to the rest of the group. “Someone needs to lighten the mood.”
“We should be quiet. What if—” Aidan starts.
“We haven’t seen anything in days,” Sheridan says. “If something’s following us, it’ll know we’re here whether or not we talk.”
Ollie takes one look at Aidan’s frown and he already knows what he’s thinking. He’s kept his paranoia about Sheridan to himself for the last few days, but to him, Ollie is sure it sounds like Sheridan is suggesting they make their location obvious. Let down their guard. If their caution has saved them, Sheridan wants that to change.
As much as Ollie wants to believe it’s just Aidan’s imagination running wild, he can’t deny the hours he’s spent awake at night, staring at the wrinkles in his tarp, listening for the sound of Sheridan moving. Hannah was certain there was something wrong with Liv and he ignored her. And Aidan isn’t wrong; the Sheridan who’s with their group now is different from the one that left with Devin two weeks ago. The only question is what kind of different she is.
“I hate to say it,” Devin chimes in, standing next to Sheridan. “But she’s right. It’s too quiet.”
“You think it’s smart to make ourselves obvious?” Ollie asks.
Devin shrugs. “We don’t have to throw a party.”
“Working together is the only way we’ll get through this,” Hannah says. Her nervous gaze flickers to Sheridan, then lands on Ollie. She’s afraid to agree with Sheridan, shamefully avoiding eye contact with Aidan. “Maybe we should just focus on that. Working together.”
Sheridan smiles.
They push their logs to the center of the clearing and break out their food packets. Ollie pretends not to watch the trees for onlookers. He pretends everything is normal. The girls are right. Normal is what they need right now.
“What do we think happens when we get out of here?” Devin asks. “Like, we get rescued. But after that? Will you guys go back home?”
Out of instinct, Ollie’s eyes find Hannah. She’s come a long way in these woods, but maybe it isn’t enough to unwrap herself from her father’s grip. He delicately avoids thinking about his own father. His own house waiting for him. He massages the back of his neck, wondering if he’s untangled himself, either.
“I will,” Aidan says. “It’s not like my mom knew all this stuff would happen. If I go back, I think we’ll be better.”
Devin nods, but her smile is half-hearted.
“I don’t know if I can,” Ollie says numbly. “It depends what’s going on at home when we get out. Like, if my grandma’s still there, I’d want to stay until … yeah.”
The group falls silent. To Ollie’s surprise, Aidan chews his way through a bit of rib meat and smiles.
“What?” Ollie asks.
“Oh, I just realized we can all do whatever we want when we get out.” Aidan beams. “We’re gonna be rich.”
“Are we?” Hannah laughs.
“I bet our parents filled out a thing saying if we get hurt, they can sue,” Aidan says. “So, I’d say we’re each getting, like, millions of dollars. Probably.”
“I like the sound of that,” Ollie muses.
“Close your eyes,” Aidan says to the group. “Imagine what you’re gonna buy. ’Cause I already know.”
“New PlayStation?” Ollie asks.
“I’m getting a whole gaming shed,” Aidan says. “I’m buying me and my mom a new house with a game shed for me and a scrapbooking room for her. She’s, like, seven years behind.”
Ollie tries to picture what extravagant purchase he’d make with a million dollars, but all he comes up with is a small apartment in downtown Portland with a river view. New clothes, a normal job, enough food to keep him comfortable. A place where he isn’t afraid to round a corner.
“Question,” Ollie says. “Is the money going in a trust or right into our bank accounts?”
“Good question,” Aidan says. “Is anyone eighteen?”
Ollie shakes his head. Around the circle, everyone shakes their head. Everyone except Devin, who gazes out between the trees. The stare is so intense Ollie worries she’s seen something. He turns to follow her gaze, but there’s nothing there. When he looks back, Devin is counting on her fingers.
“Wait, how many days have we been out here?” she asks.
“Twenty-five,” Aidan says.
“And we got here what day?”
Hannah shuffles through her bag, fishing out a crumpled green paper with the word REVIVE in thick black lettering. She scans the paper and says, “June sixth, according to this.”
Devin goes back to counting. “So, it’s July first today?”
“I guess so,” Ollie says. “Why?”
Devin’s laugh comes out in a single huff. She shakes her head. “Uh, today is my birthday. I’m eighteen.”
The group goes deadly quiet. Suddenly, Aidan stands, dropping his empty food packet at his feet. There’s a determined slant to his brow. “I know I said to be quiet, but we have to have a birthday party.”
Devin stands, too, and Ollie worries she’ll lunge at Aidan just for suggesting it. “No, we do not need a party. We need to eat dinner and go to bed.”
“Respectfully,” Ollie says, “no.”
Devin shoots him a glare. “I knew I couldn’t trust you.”
Ollie shrugs and Devin’s expression softens. Underneath the tough attitude, Ollie sees Devin for what she is. He sees the girl looking for a soft place to land. She wants to be celebrated and she doesn’t know how to ask. For the first time since his run-in with Liv and the creature at the fire, Ollie feels sure of something; Devin deserves a night without the weight of the world on her shoulders.
Aidan points to Hannah and Ollie. “We have to go out and find decorations.”
“Oh,” Hannah says, looking out at the expanse of trees. “I don’t know if that’s safe? Shouldn’t we stay at camp?”
“We could just go back the way we came,” Ollie suggests. “Since we know that way is clear?”
“Wait,” Sheridan says. “How should I help?”
Ollie scratches the stubble on his chin, pointedly ignoring Aidan’s stare. Devin’s stare bores into him, too, and he understands what she wants here. For some reason, she needs the group to give Sheridan a chance just as badly as Aidan wants them to lock her up.
Ollie motions to his backpack. “I think there’s a Funfetti packet in there. I saw it on the first day and I’ve been saving it.”
Devin crosses her arms. “No.”
“Sheridan,” Ollie says, pointedly ignoring Devin’s protests. “Can you please get that ready for when we come back? There aren’t any candles, but it’ll work.”
Sheridan smiles. “Sure thing.”
Devin waits until the others are gone before she lets out a miserable groan. She doesn’t want the group split again, doesn’t want party decorations, and she does not want to celebrate her birthday.
It’s not just about the woods. She’s never been big on birthdays. The first few years she was with fosters, they’d been deliberate about throwing her birthday parties. But once she hit her second home, that stopped. Some fosters remembered, others didn’t, but it was never worth getting her hopes up. The friends she’d think of inviting to a party were usually far out of reach by the time the next year rolled around, and the other foster kids in her orbit felt the same way she did. Birthdays became a countdown. Twelve meant six years until she was eighteen. Fifteen was only three away.
Of all the ways she imagined she’d spend her fateful eighteenth birthday, this was not on the list.
She sits on a log across from Sheridan, who’s diligently following the instructions on Ollie’s Funfetti cake packet. Sweat plasters wisps of hair to her forehead, but the bags under her eyes are lighter than they were a week ago. Devin tries not to linger much on Sheridan’s health, but the idea that she’s finally feeling better is, surprisingly, a relief.
“You don’t think they’re gonna make me wear something, do you?” Devin asks. “I know I said I’d stop punching, but I might not have a choice.”
“Hey,” Sheridan says, peering up from her packet. “I am slaving away over your birthday cake. If you ruin the party by hitting someone, I’ll spit in it.”
“If you spit in that cake, it’s not me you have to worry about,” Devin scoffs. “Did you see Ollie’s face? That thing is all he’s got left.”
Sheridan shrugs, skimming her plastic fork through the cake mix. “I already got hit once. How much worse can it get?”
Devin pauses.
Sheridan flashes her a mischievous smirk. “Kidding.”
Eager to guide the conversation as far from that punch as possible, Devin clears her throat. “I’m glad you’re trying with them.”
“Being nice is not my forte,” Sheridan says. “But if it gets us out of here…”
“I think it’s working.”
Sheridan fixes her with an amused look, brow quirked. “You know we don’t have to be nice to each other just because it’s your birthday, right? It’s weird.”
“Oh yeah. Horrible.”
“Good. Just making sure that’s clear.”
Devin sits in the easy quiet and, in the space between words, she almost forgets the danger they’re in. She doesn’t watch the shadows between trees for strange faces. She watches Sheridan ease a tiny brick of cake from a packet onto a handkerchief and she wonders how they’ve managed to come this far. It feels easier and harder all at once, the anger replaced with something infinitely more uncomfortable. Devin stares into the soft lines of Sheridan’s face, scrunched in concentration, and she tries to summon up some of the bone-deep rage she felt only a week ago. But for a reason she can’t fully grasp, it’s gone.
“Making sure I don’t poison it?” Sheridan asks when she catches Devin staring.
“Can’t be too careful.”
Sheridan plucks a pine needle from the forest floor and pokes it through the top of the cake.
“Is that supposed to be a candle?” Devin laughs.
“I’m very innovative,” Sheridan says. “No blowing it out and no wishes until everyone gets back, though.”
Devin makes her way to Sheridan’s side of the fire. The forest floor is soft at this campsite, the dirt loose and pillowy under Devin’s boots. The last shards of sunlight cut through the trees, the gray-blue of Sheridan’s eyes clear enough to mirror the gold. She glances at Devin and her face is a question.
“I haven’t had a birthday party in years,” Devin says. “I think the last one was when I was ten?”
“Well,” Sheridan drawls. “I’m sure this goes straight to the top of the ranking.”
“It’s not the worst,” Devin says. “That would be the one at Chuck E. Cheese where my foster dad’s brother got drunk and threatened to kill the rat.”
“What? That sounds great.”
“I didn’t even get my birthday crown.”
Sheridan shakes her head. She reaches for the forest floor again, this time grabbing a fallen pine branch. With surprising grace, she twists it into a circle, finishing her art project with a forceful yank, and places the makeshift wreath on Devin’s head. Devin doesn’t flinch from the slight touch, no matter how badly she wants to.
“There,” Sheridan says. “Childhood trauma healed.”
Devin touches the crown and bites back a smile. “What happened to not being nice?”
“I’m very inconsistent,” Sheridan teases. “Never let them know your next move.”
Devin waits for the switch to flip. Waits for the intolerable, mean Sheridan to reemerge. But this time, she doesn’t. The coiled ends of Sheridan’s sweat-slick hair flutter at her ears, her dark brow raised in amused suspicion. Devin wonders if she’s supposed to be the one to ruin it. If she’s supposed to say the thing that will get them fighting again.
She doesn’t.
After a moment, Sheridan coughs, pointedly looking away. “Okay, jokes aside, I do have a birthday present for you.”
Devin arches a brow. “You just found out it’s my birthday. How could you—”
“Maybe it was originally a present for everyone,” Sheridan says. She reaches for the journal. With a mischievous smile, she says, “I found something.”
“In there?”
Sheridan opens the journal over her lap. On the ground beside her, she unfolds the map. She slides her finger down the journal page, then taps a sentence near the bottom.
Devin leans in.
July 15, 1974
I found a cabin today. I don’t know how I didn’t see it the other day from the mountainside. It sits on a ridge above the river, no trees in sight, bare on the ledge so you can see for miles. I’m watching the sunset and I can breathe for the first time since I got lost. When I first saw the thing, I thought it might be abandoned. The windows are dark and moss is caked into the roof like it hasn’t been touched in years. But inside, there are beds and enough food to last months. I ate beans and rice tonight and it’s the fullest I’ve been in weeks. No way to contact the outside world, but for now, food and a place to sleep is enough. I’ll stay here a few nights to gather my strength, and then I’ll try to find my way home again.
For when I need to find the way back: 45.789359,-114.703704.
Devin rereads the paragraph, then looks up at Sheridan.
“I thought it would be long gone by now, but I checked the coordinates on the map. Look at this.” She pulls the map over her lap and taps a circled spot along a cluster of deep green ridges. When Devin squints, she can just read the text: MAGRUDER POINT. Sheridan taps it again. “It has a label. It’s a fire watchtower. I didn’t realize how close we are to it, but I think it’d only be a few days’ hike. And if it’s as exposed as Josiah says, we could camp there and light signal fires until someone sees us.”
“That sounds…” Devin starts, and her instinct is to doubt. But the longer she looks at the circle on the map, a seed of hope starts to take root. Her laugh comes out in a single, breathless huff. “That sounds like it could work?”
“Happy birthday,” Sheridan says through her crooked smile.
Before Devin can say anything, the group crashes back into camp. Devin turns, smiling at first, but the moment she locks eyes on Ollie, she knows something is wrong. Aidan’s chest rises and falls like he’s been running, and Ollie and Hannah stand behind him with somber expressions. Hannah cups something dark in her palms. None of them look at her—they only look at Sheridan.
“Get away from her, Devin,” Aidan huffs. “Fast.”
Instinctively, Devin takes a step back. When she looks at Sheridan, there’s a glimmer of actual surprise in her eyes. She flips the map over like she doesn’t want the others to see it.
“What’s going on?” Devin asks.
“What’s going on is that she is trying to sabotage us,” Aidan says. “We have proof.”
Sheridan laughs. “Oh, do you?”
“Give us the journal,” Aidan demands.
“No.”
“Please,” Ollie says, softer than Aidan. “We need to check it with something we found.”
Sheridan doesn’t look at Aidan, Hannah, or Ollie. She looks at Devin and, in an instant, Devin understands that they aren’t a single group. They’re two factions, each with their own appointed leader. Somehow, Devin has become the leader of her faction, and its only member is Sheridan, of all people. She looks at Devin and her eyes ask, Do I have to play along?
Devin swallows. “Can you just say what you found? This seems kind of…”
“… dramatic, I know,” Ollie says. “But, uh, we don’t fully know what it is, yet.”
Sheridan shakes her head. “They don’t know what it is, but it’s ‘proof.’”
Hannah steps forward. Up close, it’s clear that the substance in her palms is ash. The breeze shuffles it over her pale, calloused skin, but buried in the gray, Devin can just make out a few scattered bits of cream-colored paper. The same paper she’s sure she looked at a few seconds ago, listing cabin coordinates. She looks at Ollie and tries to wrap her head around what they’re implying.
“We found this only a few minutes from camp,” Ollie says. “Back the way we came, freshly burned. It might not be journal pages, but what other paper would be out here?”
Devin eyes Sheridan. “Did you burn journal pages?”
“When would I have done that?” Sheridan asks.
“Who else could’ve done it?” Aidan snaps. “She wouldn’t let anyone else have the journal. She probably saw something in there that would expose her and got rid of it before we could see.”
“Expose her as what?” Devin asks.
“I … I don’t know.”
“Can we just see the journal, Sheridan?” Hannah asks. “Maybe it’s a weird coincidence. We just want to see if there are any pages torn out.”
Sheridan’s grip on the journal is tight. She holds Hannah’s gaze for a long, tense moment, then she looks at Devin one last time. There’s a piece of Devin that wishes she could crack her open and finally understand what she’s thinking. She doesn’t remember Sheridan leaving camp, but the longer Devin thinks on it, the hazier these last few hours feel.
“Fine.” Sheridan groans, rolling her eyes. She hands the journal to Ollie. “Happy reading. It’s a page-turner.”
Ollie takes a few steps from the group, leafing through it. Aidan follows at his heels, trying in vain to see over his shoulder. And Devin waits with the taste of iron on her tongue, watching each page turn with her heart in her throat. She waits for Sheridan to say something, but she’s silent. The woods are quiet tonight, like even the trees hold their breath.
“I’m sorry about this,” Hannah whispers to Sheridan. “I’m sorry they’re being so … I’m sure it’s not—”
“Oh,” Ollie says finally. He moves a page to the right, then to the left again, eyes trained on the center of the journal. He eyes Devin with a frown. “There’s some pages missing here.”
Devin moves to Ollie’s side. He’s right—there are at least three pages missing from the journal, only toothy strips of paper left where they used to be. Devin scans the writing and her stomach sinks. The page before the tear reads: I call them mimics, since that’s what they seem to do. By this time, I’ve seen enough of them to speak about them as a whole. Each of them is different from the last, some smaller than coyotes and others larger than a school bus. The only reason I can fathom why they haven’t been discovered by the outside world is the obscurity of this forest. They like to tuck themselves in the quietest parts of the woods. I believe that, at one point or another, I must have crossed some boundary and entered their territory. I don’t think I’ll be safe again until I find a way back out. Weeks ago, I was looking for a way out of these woods because I worried I would starve or be attacked by a wild animal. Now, starvation is the least of my concerns.
In the times I’ve encountered the mimics, this is what I’ve learned. They
The passage ends. The page after the tear details a grove where Josiah Templeton found berry bushes. Whatever information he wrote about the “mimics” is gone. Torn out and apparently reduced to ash. Devin purses her lips to keep from being sick.
“Well?” Sheridan asks. “What’s the verdict?”
“It’s, uh…” Devin trails off. “Josiah was writing about the monsters. He calls them mimics. I think he was about to list a bunch of stuff about them. To identify them. It’s all gone.”
“Did you tear it out, Sheridan?” Ollie asks.
“I mean, there are other things that could’ve happened,” Hannah cuts in. “What if an animal snuck into camp? It could’ve eaten the journal pages?”
“Then whoever was on watch did a shit job,” Devin scoffs.
“And when’s the last time we saw an animal?” Ollie adds.
“How would an animal burn the pages, anyway?” Aidan shakes his head, pointing to Sheridan. “It was someone who knew, if we had info to identify these ‘mimics,’ they’d be screwed. And that person would probably ask to read the journal first so they could get a head start on burying evidence.”
“Why would that person show us the journal in the first place?” Devin snaps.
Aidan turns on her, jabbing his finger in her direction. “Because you told her to.”
“I didn’t—”
Sheridan throws her head back and laughs. “You got me. I did it. I pretended to take a pee break and I burnt them. I saw a bunch of juicy details about ‘mimics’ and just ripped them right out. It was all part of my master plan.” She taps her temple. “You guys are just too smart, though. You caught me.”
“What?” Aidan breathes.
Devin turns on her. “Can you take this seriously for three seconds?”
“I’m dead serious,” Sheridan says with a smug smile. “I am completely, totally guilty. Wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
“Ignore her,” Devin says.
“Why would we ignore our main suspect?” Aidan asks.
“I don’t know, because this isn’t a real trial?” Devin snaps.
For the first time since this fight started, she notices the rapid rise and fall of her own chest. She notices the blur at the edge of her vision, the feral anger folded up inside her, quickly unfurling. It’s the same as back home, the same as all those thrown punches she hardly remembers. She sucks in a breath, forcing herself to calm down.
Ollie’s hand finds her shoulder. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Devin says.
Hannah stares at her with some twisted kind of sympathy, Aidan stares at her like she’s already hit him, and Devin can’t bring herself to look at Sheridan. She clears her throat. “I’m not freaking out, I’m just trying to make you understand that it can’t be her. There are things she can tell you that will—”
“No.” Sheridan’s voice is suddenly cold as ice. “I have nothing to tell them.”
“I think we need to vote,” Ollie says finally.
“Vote on what?” Sheridan scoffs. “Are we executing me?”
Ollie ignores her. He looks Devin hard in the eyes and she doesn’t need a vote to know what will happen next. No one is listening to her, no one believes her, and nothing is different from back home. At least back then, she could make someone hurt for it.
“All who think Sheridan’s normal?” Ollie asks.
Weakly, Devin raises her hand. She has no reason to vouch for the girl who made the first weeks of this journey a living hell, the girl who told her that her fosters were right to give her up, the girl who digs under her skin every time they make eye contact. But Sheridan being human is the only thing left in these woods that makes sense.
“Okay,” Ollie says. “And all who think she isn’t?”
Aidan and Hannah raise their hands quickly. Ollie looks at Devin for another long moment, his hand still resting on her shoulder. His frown is small and afraid. Guilty.
Slowly, he raises his hand, too.