For a split second, Ollie considers staying down.
Hannah’s footsteps thunder away from camp and, moments later, Devin launches after her. Ollie rolls onto his elbows, coughing into the dirt. Sheridan lies on the ground a few feet away, clutching her hand to her chest. Her fingers are swollen, skin red as a ripe tomato.
“Oh god…” Ollie says.
“It gets worse.” Sheridan breathes.
Ollie briefly thinks she means Devin. Sheridan isn’t looking to the trees, though. She looks across the campfire, brow raised in uncharacteristic concern.
Aidan is on his back, arm tenderly draped over his eyes. His breaths come out in short sputters. His leg is splayed out under him, straight until a sharp bend at the mouth of his boot. Ollie closes his eyes. He doesn’t need a medical degree to know Aidan’s ankle is broken.
“I gotta…” Ollie stammers. “I gotta go help Devin.”
Sheridan nods.
Ollie stumbles to his feet. He reaches for his spear, but hesitates. Even if he’s sure Hannah is a mimic, he can’t hurt her. Even if he’s spent the last twenty-four hours afraid for his life, Hannah hasn’t done anything to him. In fact, she saved him. Even a few seconds ago, she only pushed him when he’s sure she could’ve done much worse.
He has to go unarmed.
He takes off into the trees, breath cold in his lungs. There’s a flash of movement in the distance, but it’s impossible to say if it’s Hannah, Devin, or something else. Ollie feels the close heat of eyes on him from all directions.
“Devin?” he shouts.
The woods are quiet.
He should’ve done this differently. He should’ve had a plan for when they accused her. If she’s a mimic, the thought of what happened to the real Hannah makes Ollie sick. He wonders when they lost her.
Ollie spins, eyes trained on the branches. Liv was able to climb a tree in a matter of seconds, even injured. If Hannah got the slightest head start, she could already be above him. He’s done everything wrong, and the fear makes his head spin. He listens for the sounds of running, but there’s only silence. Like every other time he’s been near a mimic, it’s too quiet.
She’s close.
“Hannah?” Ollie calls. “Where are—”
Behind him, a twig snaps.
Ollie turns and finds himself face-to-face with Hannah. Her wide brown eyes search his face, fearful breaths spilling from her split, chapped lips. Immediately, Ollie is disarmed. She looks like she did the first day they met. Her expression is so human there’s a flicker of doubt in Ollie’s mind. Maybe he has it wrong. Maybe he spent the last day afraid for no reason.
“Ollie,” Hannah says. “I’m sorry … I got so scared. You know I’m not one of those things.”
“Okay,” he says cautiously. He raises his hands in surrender. “Okay. If you’re not, we have to prove it.”
“What do I do?”
Ollie swallows. “Let’s go back to camp.”
He extends a hand, and maybe it’s delusion, but he isn’t afraid.
Hannah watches him for a long moment and, as hard as Ollie tries, he can’t read her. She nods, defeated. And then it’s there again, like TV static in his skull. A deepening nausea, a dizziness, a brightness to the green in the leaves. He realizes a moment too late what’s happening.
“Wait—”
Hannah grabs a fistful of his hair and slams his skull into the nearest tree. The sky flashes white, and then night circles his vision like he’s peering through a kaleidoscope. A sickly throb squeezes his brain so tight he lets out a whimper. He crumples to the forest floor, drunkenly opening his eyes just enough to see Hannah’s blurry outline crouch in front of him. Her fingertips ghost his brow, pushing a tangle of hair from his face.
“I could kill you,” she says, her voice warped like pulled taffy. “But I don’t want to.”
Ollie blinks over and over, but his vision is slow to clear. He crawls back, but Hannah quickly shoves a hand to his chest, pinning him to the tree. Her breath is quick, desperate.
“We should go back to camp,” Hannah whispers. “And I think you should tell everyone you were wrong. Can you do that?”
“Hannah…” Ollie croaks.
Before she can say anything else, something equally blurry slams into her. A slender, spindly figure holding what Ollie’s sure is a hefty branch. The figure scrambles over Hannah’s limp body, gathering her arms behind her back. Through the darkening haze, Ollie is sure he sees a flash of lavender hair.
“Devin!” Sheridan calls. “She’s over here!”
It’s not like the river, he thinks faintly as night closes in on him. Sheridan didn’t let him drown this time. He doesn’t see if Devin makes it to them, doesn’t see if Hannah gets back up. His skull finds rest against the tree and he rolls out of consciousness.
When Hannah wakes, Devin is waiting for her. Rope binds her to a tree near the campfire, but it feels silly given the kind of havoc they know she can wreak. Just like with Sheridan, they’ve fashioned her a blindfold from a bit of T-shirt, and just like with Sheridan, they have no way to keep her from hearing them.
It’s a problem Devin will have to solve later, but for right now, she wants Hannah to hear her every word.
Sheridan sits on a stump near Devin, nursing her swollen fingers. The bleeding from Devin’s nose has mercifully stopped. Without a mirror, she doesn’t know how bad the damage is. When she asks Sheridan, all she gets is a tight-lipped smile. She supposes it’s better than laughter.
Ollie and Aidan sit together, Aidan’s leg propped up in their sling with his boot lying in the dirt beside him. In only an hour, his ankle has swollen to twice its normal size, bruises so dark they’re nearly black. Devin tries not to think about how they’ll haul him out of these woods on it.
But it’s Ollie she’s worried about.
He came to life only a few minutes after blacking out, but even now, he’s too quiet. His head lolls back against the tree, eyes fluttering open and shut like a cat lounging in the sun. When they ask him about Hannah, he just shakes his head and winces. His pupils are too wide, devouring the green of his eyes.
Sheridan’s fingers are broken, Aidan’s ankle is broken, Devin’s nose might be broken. Ollie’s broken in a way they can’t see; maybe in a way that’s worse. Hannah might not have escaped, but she certainly fucked them over.
Hannah groans and scrunches up her nose. When she speaks, it’s a croak. “Where … where am I?”
“You’re awake,” Devin says, tamping down the quiver in her voice. “We have questions.”
“Devin?” Hannah asks.
Devin rolls her eyes. “Yes, it’s Devin. All of us are here. We’re not feeling great. You wanna explain what happened?”
“What do you mean?” Hannah asks. “What happened?”
“Oh, this is good.” Sheridan laughs.
Hannah stiffens. “Why is she laughing?”
Behind them, Aidan shifts to get a better look at Hannah. Ollie seems unfazed, which makes Devin’s stomach sink even further. Whatever she did to him when she ran from camp, they need to get him out of these woods and to a hospital. The damage is worse than any of them realized.
“We asked you to do a lighter test, remember?” Devin asks. “You freaked out and beat the shit out of us. Let’s talk about that.”
“I what?”
“Stop acting,” Sheridan says. “You’re not very good at it.”
There’s a piece of Devin, under the panic, that enjoys this dynamic. She and Sheridan on the same team, terrible in tandem. Only a few weeks ago, Devin was throwing fists at Sheridan for speaking to Hannah like this. Finding the wounds in a person and plunging a knife in is a talent, though, and Sheridan’s better at it than anyone in this group. It used to scare Devin to see her do it. Now, with Sheridan pointed like a blade to Hannah’s throat, it feels powerful.
“You know, I actually wondered about you,” Sheridan says, scooting an inch closer to Hannah. “We were all seeing these horrible mimic-versions of people … except you. None of them turned into your shitty dad, did they?”
“I don’t understand!” Hannah cries so loud it echoes from the trees. “You’re all crazy!”
When Devin and Sheridan don’t reply, Hannah slumps. Her shoulders shake, a little at first, then violently. It takes Devin a moment too long to realize she’s crying. Maybe it’s because Hannah—or not-Hannah—doesn’t cry like she should. When she cries, it’s like an infant wailing. A few puckered breaths at first, then a screech that makes Devin step back.
“Stop!” Devin snaps.
“Why are you doing this?” Hannah sobs.
“Devin…” Aidan says. “This feels—”
“—bad?” Devin finishes. “I know, but—”
Hannah screams again, voice pitching so high Devin has to clap her hands over her ears. This time, her eyes find the trees. They still know virtually nothing about mimics. This could be how Hannah summons more of them.
“Hannah,” Devin barks. “If you’re not a mimic, we gave you a way to prove it.”
“Ollie?” Hannah calls, ignoring Devin. “Tell them I’m not a mimic. We don’t have to use fire. You can tell them.”
Against his tree, Ollie tries to sit up. Aidan reaches to support him and Devin’s stomach drops. He won’t last much longer if they don’t get help now. They need to save Ollie and they need to break Hannah and they’re running out of time to do both.
“Aidan, what do we do if he has a concussion?” Devin asks.
Aidan touches Ollie’s knee. “Limit light exposure? Have him lie down? I don’t know. You’re not supposed to treat them at home. And I think this is … worse than that.”
“Damn,” Sheridan says. “Maybe we should call 911?”
“You’re hilarious,” Devin says flatly. She crouches in front of Hannah. “Listen. Either you let us do the lighter test, or we—”
Hannah swallows. “Kill me?”
Devin digs her knuckles into the dirt. She doesn’t actually know what they’ll do. Letting her go means she can escape or, worse, lead more mimics back to them. But killing her feels beyond extreme. Even if she knows this version of Hannah isn’t human, the mimic wears her face, her voice, her memories. Devin can’t watch the life drain from her, can’t imagine being the one to snuff her out.
“We won’t kill you,” Devin says. “I promise.”
Hannah falls quiet. She cocks her head to the side. “No matter what?”
At that, Devin looks at Sheridan. Now they’re getting somewhere. Hannah’s posture shifts, easing into her restraints like she plans to be here a while. Devin suddenly regrets the blindfold; without Hannah’s eyes, her expression is a mystery.
“You mean no matter what you tell us?” Sheridan asks.
Hannah nods.
“Okay,” Devin says. “We promise.”
Hannah smiles and Devin thinks she might be sick. It’s all wrong. She steels herself because she’s done an okay job of keeping the idea of “real” Hannah out of her head up to now. But this twist of Hannah’s lips is all the confirmation she needs. The Hannah they knew when they entered the woods is gone, and for better or worse, they’re going to learn where she went.
She hopes Ollie’s concussion is bad enough to keep him from listening.
“You’re not the real Hannah, are you?” Devin asks.
“I am now,” Hannah says. “I’m Hannah in the ways that matter.”
Devin eyes Sheridan, but she only shrugs.
“Where’s our Hannah?”
Hannah’s head tilts farther, ear touching her shoulder. “Nowhere. Here. It depends on what you mean.”
“I didn’t realize we were talking to the Joker,” Sheridan mutters.
“Is she still in there?” Devin asks.
“Should I explain?” Hannah asks. “I don’t think you know the right questions. Hannah is here and not here. I’m her and I’m not. I don’t think that’s the information you want.”
Behind them, Aidan whimpers.
Devin grits her teeth. She’s a thousand things at once—glad their suspicions were correct and the real Hannah didn’t hurt them, disgusted at the time she’s spent in the company of a mimic, crushed at the idea that this is what’s left of the girl they entered the woods with.
She exhales in a hiss. “Why do you pretend to be her?”
Hannah’s brow lifts. “I’m not pretending. But I understand what you’re saying. I decided to become Hannah because I want to leave the woods.”
“Can you change into anyone else?” Sheridan asks.
“No.” Hannah hesitates. “Not anymore.”
“What does that mean?” Devin snaps.
“Hannah and I made a deal.” Hannah shifts in her ties just enough to cross her legs. Her dark hair gathers at her shoulders. “I’ll make you a deal, too.”
Devin and Sheridan lock eyes again, and for the first time, Devin lets fear overtake her. She doesn’t care if Sheridan sees it in her face. She wants Sheridan to see she’s scared. Because as much as Devin wants to get them out of these woods, this is beyond the scope of what she can understand. It was one thing for monsters to exist in theory, but now it’s real. This monster is real, it’s speaking to her, and it did something to her friend. The impossibility of it is crushing.
“What kind of deal?” Sheridan asks before Devin can gather herself. “You guys spend a lot of time harassing us and not a lot of time saying what you actually want.”
“I don’t want what the rest of them want,” Hannah says, snapping to face Sheridan. “I don’t care if you all make it out of here. I won’t stop you.”
“Then why did you hurt us?” Aidan asks.
“You tried to kill me.”
“Wait, no,” Devin says. “No, we are not accepting deals. We’re asking the questions right now. What are you?”
Hannah goes still again. The quiet stretches so long Devin thinks she might be done talking. Finally, she sighs. “Here are the terms of my deal. I will get you out of this forest in one piece. When we make it out, you let me go.”
“What?”
“I’ll answer every question, but only if you promise I’m free when we escape. That’s my deal.”
“No,” Devin snaps. It sends a shock of pain through her nose. “No, we’re in control of this conversation. We’re not talking to you about deals until you explain what you are and what you did to Hannah.”
Hannah sighs. “I guess we’re stuck, then.”
“We promise,” Sheridan says, shooting a quick glance at Devin. “We promise we’ll let you go.”
Hannah shakes her head. “You have to mean it.”
“How do you know I don’t mean it?”
“I’ll tell you how I know,” Hannah says, “when you make a deal with me.”
“Jesus, you’re annoying,” Sheridan scoffs.
Devin turns away and eyes the boys. Even with all their setbacks, they’ve stayed on track for pickup so far. But looking at them now, rescue feels miles away. Aidan can’t walk. Ollie’s on the brink of collapse. And then there’s the Hannah problem. She turns back to Sheridan.
“I don’t know what to do,” she whispers. “We can’t move them and her.”
“What?” Sheridan asks, brow raised. “You don’t think my newly developed muscles can help transport two critically injured boys and an inhuman creature of the woods?”
Devin blinks. “Sometimes you just … say so many words.”
Despite the terror of their situation, Sheridan smiles. There’s a small comfort in knowing they’re in this together. They’re awake and alive, and even if everyone else is out of commission, Devin doesn’t have to do this alone. When she looks at Sheridan, she’s a thousand times less scared than she should be. It takes her by surprise.
“I don’t think we can keep going like this,” Devin says. “If we stay put, do you think we can keep her contained?”
Behind them, Ollie groans.
“She didn’t…” he manages. His head lolls back. “… want to leave. She wanted to stay with us.”
“Why?”
Hannah smiles sweetly. “If I leave this camp, they’ll kill me. You won’t.”
“How do you know we won’t kill you?” Devin says at the same time Sheridan asks, “Why would they kill you?”
Hannah pointedly ignores Devin, turning to Sheridan. “Because I killed them first.”
“Aren’t you all on the same side?” Sheridan asks.
“Only a few of us will be able to leave this forest. I would love to tell you more about it…” she trails off, turning back to Devin. “… when we have a deal.”
“We’re done talking,” Devin says, jaw tight. “We’ll just wait. You’re gonna … stay against that tree and you won’t get to drink or eat or move until you tell us. That’s our deal.”
There’s a hush over their campsite. It takes Devin a moment to realize the quiet comes from Hannah herself. It presses low to the earth, blots out any other sounds the forest might make, and if Devin didn’t feel the rise and fall of her own chest, she might doubt she was breathing.
After a moment, Hannah nods.
“If that makes you feel better.” She settles like she’s shrugging into a sleeping bag. “I’ve waited much longer to eat.”
Devin turns away fast. There’s something about the way she says it that makes her ill. Sheridan moves quietly to her side, her fingers just finding Devin’s elbow. It takes her by surprise, the tenderness of it. If she didn’t know Sheridan better, she’d say it was meant to be comforting. It isn’t, though; since the watchtower, every time Sheridan touches her, it burns.
Devin steps away.
“I think this is what we’ve got,” she whispers to Sheridan and Aidan. Ollie’s eyes flutter shut again, and Devin doubts he’s retaining much when they’re open. “We can’t move. I think we need to just … hold down the fort here until she gives us something. We have the supplies.”
“Should we look for the real Hannah?” Aidan asks.
Suddenly, Devin wishes Sheridan’s fingers still ghosted her elbow. “I think we can’t. I don’t … I don’t know what happened to her. But with Ollie like this, the three of us have to stick together or someone will be an easy target.”
When she looks at Sheridan, it’s clear they’re thinking the same thing: there is no Hannah to find. She wishes she didn’t think it.
Aidan seems to understand, though. He nods and turns to Ollie, pulling up his eyelids to check the whites of his eyes. Even if Aidan can’t walk, he does what he can. They all do. Devin just prays it’s enough.
“We stay here,” Devin says. “And we wait.”