not what's missing from your life

by nunya_bznz_babes

Summary:

Shauna bites her lip hard enough to taste the metallic tang of her own blood. There’s screaming in the wind. Is it her? Doesn’t matter. Jackie isn’t waking up. The old mantra kicks up in Shauna's head again, more deafening than ever before. Jackie Jackie Jackie-

And then Jackie breathes.

It’s just the faintest bit of steam in the lantern's light. Jackie’s face is still covered in ice. Her eyes don’t open, her lips don’t move. But Shauna’s heart restarts.

 

Or: Lottie wakes up the night of the snowstorm and Jackie lives. But there's always a price to pay, in the woods.

Notes:

I hope you like this!! It started out as self-indulgent but I promise that I do have an actual plan for plot and spooky woods stuff. It isn't as good as the actual show but in my version Shauna gets to have some modicum of happiness in the '96 timeline, so.

Chapter 1: when it snows my eyes become large

Shauna’s first thought, when she wakes up, is Jackie.

Jackie is Shauna’s first thought a lot of days. Too many days. She takes up so much space in Shauna’s head sometimes, pushing out any thought that isn’t some iteration of Jackie Jackie Jackie. And Shauna, half awake, vaguely remembers thinking about Jackie as she fell asleep. So when a hand shakes her arm and a girl hisses, "Shauna!," it’s only natural to assume that Jackie is pulling her out of bed for some reason or other.

But the hold that the girl has on her is a vice grip, too rough to be Jackie, and her voice doesn’t have that rasp Shauna would recognize even in her sleep. And when Shauna opens her eyes, she sees that the face is Lottie’s.

Only- something is wrong. Lottie’s eyes are wide and wild in the dark, her chest heaving, her breathing hot against Shauna's nose. Shauna feels drops of warm liquid splatter on her temple and thinks dimly, Lottie’s crying.

"Shauna," Lottie whispers again, "It’s so hungry."

Shauna’s eyes flit over to where Taissa is sleeping in the dark. Tai’s a surprisingly heavy sleeper, which is usually perfect because it means that Shauna can toss and turn all night, trying to get comfortable around the ever-growing mass that used to be her stomach. But right now Shauna wishes desperately that Tai would wake up. Lottie grabs Shauna’s chin to pull her closer, her eyes blank the way they were when she smashed her head through a window. She mutters in French, switching over to nonsensical English after every few words.

"It wants her," Lottie moans, "Il a créé la neige. Shauna, it’s starving for her."

"Wh- Lottie, you’re hurting me. Hey, let go-"

Lottie’s eyes focus on Shauna’s suddenly, the abrupt clarity in them startling enough to shock her into silence.

"It’s not enough," Lottie’s voice cracks, face twisting as if she’s in pain. Her eyes drift down to where her hand pins Shauna’s shoulder to the wooden floor. 

Shauna follows Lottie’s gaze to find her right forearm flayed open to the bone, gleaming muscle exposed under blood that streams down onto Shauna’s face, loose skin flapping like it’s swaying in the breeze.

"Holy shit," Shauna whispers in muted horror. “Lottie, we need to—"

But Lottie shoves her down again, knocking Shauna’s head hard against the floorboards.

"Jackie," Lottie whispers desperately. "Il veut- It’s trying to take her."

And that’s when Shauna notices the cold. 

She shoves Lottie off, running to the window like a girl in a horror movie. Touching the glass pane is like brushing her fingers against ice, sending a sharp chill up Shauna’s arm. 

The night sky is dotted with swirling snow. It’s snowing out. And Shauna can’t see the light of a fire flickering through the dark.

"No," she breathes, and then whirls to sprint downstairs. She almost falls down the ladder without a light to guide her, but she can’t stop. Her heart is hammering like it did as the plane crashed, as Tai tried to stick the wire of a coat hanger up inside of her.

Jackie isn’t sleeping on the floor of the cabin. Shauna does trip this time, her feet stalling over Van. She lands on Natalie and pushes herself up without a word as they groan at her in frustrated confusion. None of them matter right now. Shauna doesn’t matter right now. There’s only Jackie.

She grabs their lantern and lights it in about two seconds, despite the way her hand is shaking. Shauna shoves the door open and takes an instinctual half-step back. Even with the pull that she feels towards wherever Jackie is, it’s fucking freezing out there. Snow stings her cheeks, and she’s pretty sure that her fingers are already turning red.

oh, God, Jackie.

She forces herself off of the porch, throwing herself into the snowstorm. She can’t see anything past her own hand, but she remembers where Jackie was sitting. Doesn’t she?

For a moment Shauna’s terrified that they’ll both die out here. She’ll overshoot and get lost in the snow — maybe she’ll freeze to death two feet from Jackie and nobody will know until the morning. But then she kicks against something solid and it gives a little against her feet. Shauna leans down and it’s Jackie, Jackie Jackie Jackie, illuminated by the flickering yellow light lantern. 

Her eyes are frozen closed. Shauna chokes against a sob, gripping her best friend and shaking her violently.

"No, Jackie, no, wake up, no, Jackie, please-"  

The pain is shocking, blinding. She can’t breathe around it. Her fingers are stuck to Jackie’s jacket, shaking her uselessly. Jackie Jackie Jackie.

She bites her lip and tastes the metallic tang of her own blood. There’s screaming in the wind. Is it her? Doesn’t matter. Jackie isn’t waking up. Jackie Jackie Jackie.

And then Jackie breathes.

It’s just the faintest bit of steam in the lantern light. Jackie’s face is still covered in ice. Her eyes don’t open, her lips don’t move. But Shauna’s heart restarts. 

In a burst of adrenaline, she pulls Jackie off of the ground and throws her over her shoulder. Shauna wishes she could carry her in a kinder way, but six months pregnant and on an empty stomach this is the best she can do.

It has to be enough.

Shauna lugs Jackie towards the cabin. Her entire body strains under the weight as she’s battered with pinpricks of ice, but it hurts so much less than it did when she thought Jackie was-

But Jackie isn’t. Shauna has to make sure that Jackie doesn’t.

It feels like an eternity until her foot hits wood, but it does. Shauna hauls her best friend up the stairs, pushing the door open with one awkward hand, and stumbles into the warmth of the cabin.

Everyone’s awake, their argument lit by candlelight. Misty is silently wrapping Lottie’s arm as Tai screams at her, Nat bickering with Van as she tries to intervene. The younger girls hang back in the shadows, glancing between Lottie and Tai like they’re watching a cage match.

"Help," Shauna forces out, and they all turn to her in shock.

"Shauna," Tai gasps. She runs to grab Jackie, then turns to Misty helplessly. Shauna sways on her feet as they guide Jackie to the couch. She won’t let go of her for a second — she grips Jackie’s hand, her shoulder, anything she can get a hold of.

Shauna won’t let Jackie go again. Not ever again.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

The rest of the night is a miserable blur. Shauna’s exhausted from the cold, like her life force was sucked out or something, as she holds Jackie by the fire. Misty has them stuff her into as many layers as they can, tying socks together to cover her head, and then draw a hot bath. Shauna insists that they keep Jackie’s clothes on as they submerge her in the warm water. Lottie, her skin pale and her arm hastily bandaged, brings Shauna some tea that helps her wake up. 

Jackie doesn’t wake up. She’s feverish, muttering nonsensically into the morning. Shauna catches her name a few times, and the Taylors’. And Jeff’s, which sends a shot of bitterness burning down Shauna’s throat.

Because, okay, Shauna fucked Jackie’s boyfriend. She’s not too proud to admit that she’s sorry for it anymore. She’s been sorry since the first time she did it, last winter, and every time after. But Jackie didn’t even really like him. Why is Jeff’s name on her tongue now?

That familiar prick of jealousy fades fast, though, because then Jackie is whimpering or wheezing and Shauna feels like her lungs are constricting, too.

Eventually the water becomes lukewarm and Shauna hauls Jackie out before it gets cold. She changes her quickly, careful not to look at her goosebumped body even though they used to shower together on hot summer days, rinsing off sweat or saltwater or chlorine from the Taylors’ country club pool. Jackie’s skin is so pale, her usual honey undertones bleached out and replaced by a terrifying bluish-white. My fault, Shauna thinks despondently, and knows that it’s true. 

They lay her down in front of the fire again, swaddled in a cocoon of threadbare blankets. Everyone else drifts off to bed, glancing back at Jackie with hushed concern. It makes Shauna want to rip Misty’s head off, seeing how she looks at Jackie like she’s already dead. She snaps one time too many and Misty backs off, murmuring instructions to Shauna before going to sleep. 

Shauna alternates between holding Jackie tight, whispering apologies into the bird’s nest at the top of her head, and fussing over her. She adjusts her blankets every few minutes, pressing close as if she can shed her body heat and let Jackie have it. She brushes her thumb over Jackie’s lips, still blue and cracked open from the cold. It doesn’t seem to do much.

The guilt is a physical weight in Shauna’s chest. The threat of losing her best friend, of feeling that all-consuming pain again, presses tangibly closer with every rattle in Jackie’s chest. If Jackie doesn’t recover from this, Shana’s pretty sure she’ll die right along with her. 

And then the little being — the baby — growing within her drags its foot along the inside of her skin. Shauna shivers as she realizes for the millionth time that her life isn’t entirely her own anymore. If Jackie dies tonight, she’ll have to keep going out of some sort of biological debt to the little creature incubating in her stomach. She’s been so worried about this pregnancy killing her that she’s almost surprised every time she remembers how it’s forcing her to live. It’s an oddly strong tie to the world, one Shauna’s never really needed before and is a little resentful of now.

And then Jackie shifts against her, effectively cutting off Shauna’s thoughts about the baby. She coughs slightly before turning her head a bit. Shauna pushes herself up so that she can see Jackie’s face, and nearly bursts into tears when she sees that Jackie’s eyes are squinting up at her.

"You came to get me," Jackie rasps sleepily. 

"Yeah," Shauna chokes out, "Yeah, Jax."

There’s so much she wants to say. There are about a billion apologies scraping the roof of her mouth, the soft skin of her throat. But all she can manage at the moment is, "Sorry it took so long."

And then Jackie is asleep again, safe in Shauna’s arms.

Chapter 2: sun cuts through this dusty hall

Shauna blinks awake to glaring sunlight streaming through frosted glass. She’s still on the floor of the cabin’s main room in front of a crackling fire, wrapped around Jackie. 

She’s been tossing and turning through nightmares about eyelids frozen shut and doors slamming since she finally fell asleep around dawn. Shauna’s alert enough to remember exactly what happened last night, and exactly why. The guilt doesn’t hit her – it’s already there. 

Shauna wonders if maybe it’ll always be there.

Jackie is still asleep, which scares Shauna slightly shitless, but her breath is visible in the frigid air of the cabin. The snowfall was intense, but it didn’t actually last long. It looks like the cold will be sticking around, though.

“Good morning!" Misty’s voice chirps.

Shauna squints over to find her beaming on the couch. 

"She’s probably only going to lose three toes!"

Misty grins at her like they’ve accomplished something together. Shauna doesn’t even want to think about how to respond to that, so she smiles back awkwardly. 

"uh-" Her voice is hoarse, she realizes with a wince. "Where’s everyone else?"

Misty presses her lips together slightly.

"Lottie is…out. Tai and Van are still up in the attic. Natalie’s back to hunting with Travis. Wait, no, they’re out looking for Javi."

Shauna realizes with a pang that she hasn’t even thought about Javi since yesterday. And with the snow…

The only reason Jackie’s alive is because they got her back inside, laid her in boiled water and roasted her in front of the fire, and covered her in layers of blankets. And even with all of that, she’s still out cold.

Shauna doesn’t want to think about what that means for Javi. 

Misty keeps rambling.

"Oh, and everyone else is boiling snow for water and collecting pine needles. They left me here to watch Jackie so you can cook some of the bear meat for dinner."

Shauna pulls Jackie a little closer at that, even as her stomach clenches in hunger. The idea of leaving Jackie alone with Misty fucking Quigley, who got them all high on shrooms in an attempt to poison Coach Ben like two days ago, has Shauna’s heart rate kicking up. 

"I don’t know if I can leave her yet," Shauna says honestly. 

Misty adjusts her glasses, frowning a little. 

"I know you’re worried about her, but I promise she’s in good hands. My uncle got frostbite two years ago and he told us all about it."

Shauna glances at Jackie, still pale but radiating heat. 

"I’m not sure it’s just frostbite."

Misty springs up off of the coach and then crouches down next to them. She’s touching Jackie’s forehead before Shauna can tell her to back off, brow furrowing.

"That’s definitely a fever."

Something crumbles in Shauna’s chest. Jackie didn’t just almost freeze last night because of her – Jackie’s sick because of her. And out here, that means something a hell of a lot scarier than missing a day of practice. 

"You’re way better at all of this doctor stuff than I am," she tells Misty, "I know you can help her. But it feels like I have to be here. Is that okay?"

Misty tilts her head in consideration, but she’s preening subtly. Shauna knows that she’s got her.

"Alright," Misty says, "But you need to listen to me if you want to help her."

Privately, Shauna doesn’t think that chopping off Coach Ben’s leg and bandaging up some wounds makes Misty a qualified medical practitioner. But she’s at a loss for what to do other than wrap Jackie in more blankets, so she can’t really complain about the help. 

"That’d be great," Shauna murmurs, fighting to keep her eyes open, "Thanks, Misty."

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Tai and Van come back into the main room first, their smiles fading when they see that Jackie’s still unconscious. They help Shauna and Misty carry Jackie into the back room.

"Travis and Coach Ben can sleep out here with us," Misty beams, rocking on her feet in excitement. Tai locks eyes with Shauna and she almost wants to laugh.

But then Jackie moans in her sleep, and any traces of humor left within Shauna shrivel up and die. 

The JV girls come back in a minute later, Coach Ben trailing behind them on his makeshift crutch.

"He’s on some kind of usefulness kick," Mari rolls her eyes to Shauna as Coach tries to build up the fire. "I think he feels bad about, you know, Jackie."

The rage Shauna feels at that is a little too homicidal to act on, so she distracts herself by adjusting Jackie’s blankets. Again. 

Melissa’s trying to figure out how to boil pine needles like they did in some fancy Manhattan restaurant she visited with her aunt once. Crystal’s helping her, quiet as usual, when Lottie stumbles back in.

She’s shivering in her faux fur cutoff jacket, arms laden with an assortment of snow-dusted branches and leaves. She doesn’t speak to any of the others, but they all hush a bit when she comes in. She looks enough like Jackie does now, face red and cracking, that Shauna tears herself away from the back room to make sure she’s alright. 

Lottie sets what she foraged down on the floor and starts sorting through it.

"Lottie? Um…what are you doing?" Mari asks.

Lottie smiles at her as she shakes.

"I’m making these."

She holds up a thick wand of different leaves, bound together by the strings of Jackie’s green dress.

"For protection."

Shauna steps past Mari, who’s hovering at the entry to the main room with something like awe steeping in her eyes. Shauna can’t bring herself to care about whatever crazy bullshit Lottie’s convinced herself of now – but Jackie would’ve died last night if Lottie hadn’t woken Shauna, no matter how creepy and unhinged she was acting.

"Hey," she begins gently, but then the door flies open and an icy wind tears its way through the cabin. It’s Nat and Travis, who look half dead from a mixture of exhaustion and the frigid temperature.

Still, neither of them shed their layers or sink down onto the couch. Travis heads for the back room and Nat comes over to pull Shauna towards the door, away from the others.

“Shauna,” Nat says quietly, “How long do you think the bear meat will last us?”

Shauna matches her tone, leaning in to block their conversation from eavesdroppers.

“Maybe more than a month, if we’re careful. Are you going back out?”

She frowns at Nat, who’s clearly suffering from exposure if not frostbite. There’s determination in the lines of her expression and defiance in the slope of her shoulders, but Shauna can also see the panic in Nat’s eyes.

“To look for Javi,” Nat confirms. 

Shauna presses her lips together but doesn’t say anything. Maybe Javi really did find shelter; and it’s not like he doesn’t know how to build a fire, after months out here. Maybe he got luckier than Jackie did. Maybe he didn’t fall asleep Shauna doesn’t want to stop Nat and Travis from looking for him, especially not while there’s a chance he can be found alive.

Travis emerges from the back room with a pair of jeans layered over his pants. He hands Nat a strip of cloth, which she ties around her forehead, and socks that he’s ripped holes into to make gloves. Shauna notices with no small amount of relief that he hasn’t taken anything from the bundle of clothes warming Jackie.

She’s guilty and grateful enough to pull off her sweatshirt and hand it to Nat, ignoring the way the cold bites at her skin.

“Thanks,” Nat nods, and then she and Travis start toward the door.

"Wait." Lottie says.

She’s standing up in the main room, eyes trained on Nat, bundles of leaves forgotten. She’s still Lottie. Shauna doesn’t see that telltale blankness in her expression, the one that comes before she chants in French and fillets her own arm. The sharpness of her eyes is enough to tell Shauna that she’s present. But Lottie seems taller, somehow. The shadows of her face are a little deeper.

When she speaks, the cabin stops to listen.

"Don’t go out there."

Nat sizes Lottie up, clearly frustrated.

"What the hell are you on about now?"

Lottie’s a picture of concern, gaze flicking between Nat and Travis. 

“Don’t go.”

“Sure,” Nat scoffs, “We’ll just leave Javi out there to fend for himself. Genius fucking idea, Lottie. Why didn’t I think of that?”

Lottie shakes her head a little, nonplussed by Nat’s anger. 

“Javi’s fine. But it’s not safe for you to be in the woods yet.”

Nat laughs bitterly.

“Javi’s not fine, he could be-”

She cuts herself off, glancing at Travis, before hoisting the shotgun onto her back.

“We’ll try to hunt while we look.”

That’s final and even Lottie registers it. Her fingers twitch as if she’ll reach for them, the creases in her forehead showing her concern.

“Fine,” Lottie sighs, but pulls a thick bunch of bark out of her jacket pocket. 

“Just let me-”

Travis stops to face her, but Nat pulls him along with a huff.

“It’s a pass on the Wicca bullshit,” Nat says, “But thanks, Lottie.”

The door slams behind them. Lottie stands there for a moment, looking unnervingly scared. Shauna’s about to talk to her when Akilah interrupts her train of thought.

“Shauna?” She calls from the main room, “Sorry, but everyone’s sort of hungry.”

So Shauna has to leave Jackie for a minute longer. Which feels like tearing out her left lung, but it’s fine. She goes out to their makeshift meat shed — basically just really big sticks and planks of wood they found in the attic at this point, but Crystal had said something about salvaging pieces of the plane wreck.

She already skinned the bear, so she works the meat quickly. Even raw it makes her mouth water. She wonders if the others are this starving all the time, or if it’s just the pregnancy fucking with her. 

Her fingers ache within a few moments of being outside. It’s painful, stinging at her cheeks and making her long for the sweatshirt she just gave Nat. She’s already sick of winter and it hasn’t even been a day. 

Shauna thinks of Jackie outside last night, of what Taissa said weeks ago — dying feels like falling asleep kind of cold — and walks a little faster back to the cabin. 

Shauna reenters the warmth of the main room with significantly less meat than yesterday. At winter’s doorstep, rationing seems more important than ever before. She can tell that the other girls notice, but none of them say anything as they agree to cook the meat for her.

She’s setting it down into a pot, ready to go check on Jackie again, when Misty calls, “Shauna!”

She whirls around and hurries to the back room, heart pounding so hard she can feel it in her fingertips.

She stops in the doorway, inexplicably terrified out of her mind. But Jackie’s sitting up on the bed, staring at her through blearily squinted eyes. Jackie’s awake. 

Shauna nearly bursts into tears. A few definitely slip down her cheeks as she rushes to the bed, reaching down to grip Jackie’s feverish hand.

“Shauna?” Jackie mutters.

“Yeah, Jax,” she smiles around the cracks in her voice, “It’s me.”

She’s never been so relieved in all her life.

And then Jackie pulls her hand away, and Shauna feels the joy budding within her freeze. Harden into something impossibly heavy. 

“Why did you save me?” Jackie whispers.

“What- of course I saved you,” Shauna answers, bewildered.

“You hate me,” Jackie says, and Shauna feels something break inside of her.

“I don’t hate you. I could never- Jackie, you’re my best friend. I could never hate you.”

But Jackie’s crying, screwing her big gray eyes closed like she’s trying not to see Shauna. She doesn’t even look all that upset, is the thing. She just seems tired. The tears are slipping out as if she’s only half aware of them. 

Shauna did this. She hurt her best friend so badly, and she feels so fucking terrible about it, and all her walls of defensiveness are crumbling in the face of Jackie’s pain. 

“Get out,” Jackie mutters, opening her eyes again.

“Get out, please.”

Shauna doesn’t know what to do. If this were just some fight, over who stole whose lip gloss or whether or not Shauna should hook up with Randy fucking Walsh, the best thing would be to stay and force Jackie to talk.

But this isn’t just some fight. Shauna’s currently pregnant with Jackie’s boyfriend’s baby. And she doesn’t even really like Jeff. She just did it so that she could- what? Do something Jackie wouldn’t know about? Be Jackie for just five minutes?

(smell her perfume on Jeff’s neck, lick traces of her lip gloss off of Jeff’s lips, feel Jeff inside of her and think Jackie Jackie Jackie and then ignore it, bury it, shove it down deep like she always does)

Shauna doesn’t know what to do. So, like always, she does what Jackie says.

She gets up and leaves her best friend alone, curled up to face a barren wall, sniffling into the echoes of an empty room.

Chapter 3: this means nothing to me

Jackie’s life right now sucks worse than when she was in a literal plane crash. 

She’s in and out of consciousness for about a week, which means seven-ish days of terrifyingly realistic nightmares. She’s freezing in some, burning in others. She’s sprinting through the trees, human voices trilling around her, pressing closer. She’s plummeting through the air and the plane’s on fire, she’s gutted by twisting metal, she’s impaled by an eating tray. Shauna’s leaning in close, her breath hitched with want, her full lips parted; Jackie tangles her hands in Shauna’s hair and Shauna sinks her teeth through Jackie’s neck.

Jackie screams and screams, but when she wakes up tangled in the blankets of the back room she hasn’t made a sound. 

She’s officially better by the end of the week. Misty clears her of any lingering illness — except for the cough Jackie can’t seem to shake — gives her an expectant you’re welcome for hacking off four of her toes, and promptly evicts her from the back room.

Which means Jackie can’t even mope in private. She’s constantly stared at by all of the other dirty, miserable girls in the cabin. She catches them glaring at her when they think she isn’t looking, and it’s not a Stop making us run drills look or a Stop making my boyfriend drool over you by literally just existing look. It’s a We actually wish you were dead look.

Which, now that Jackie thinks about it, aren’t actually all that different. But these are definitely worse, because Jackie isn’t fueled by a competitive spirit or righteous indignation. She just knows that they’re right.

Jackie’s useless out here. She’s useless, period, and it was only a matter of time before everyone figured it out.

Shauna had called Jackie insecure, in their fight before when Jackie was almost allowed to go gently into the good night or whatever was in that poem Mrs. Click had framed on her classroom wall. But then Shauna said that Jackie was boring, and self-obsessed, and jealous, and weak. 

If the person who’s supposed to love you the most says that everything you’ve ever hated about yourself is true, Jackie’s been thinking, are you insecure? Or are you just right?

Lottie said it — Jackie doesn’t matter anymore. Shauna proved that she probably never did. So yeah, Jackie’s been moping. What else is she supposed to do with that?

She hasn’t talked to Shauna in almost two weeks. She catches Shauna watching her from across the cabin sometimes, looking like a kicked puppy — which is so ridiculously unfair, because, hello? Shauna fucked Jackie’s boyfriend. Everyone else may be living in some fucked up Wonderland where that doesn’t mean anything, but Jackie knows that it does. Shauna hurt her, on purpose, and refused to even consider an apology because apparently Jackie’s just that much of a psycho control freak. Shauna might have saved Jackie’s life, but she’s made it very clear that she wishes Jackie were gone forever. 

Jackie catches Shauna staring, and she definitely stares back when Shauna isn’t looking, but Shauna won’t say anything to her. Which, like, fine. Message received. If Shauna doesn’t want Jackie, Jackie won’t bother her.

Of course, nobody else wants Jackie, either. She pulls her mat of blankets over to the corner of the main room, away from the sleeping pile, and doesn’t leave it except to eat and drink and piss and shit. She’s like the world’s laziest, saddest hamster. She won’t even spin on the wheel like everyone else.

She knows, logically, that constantly laying with her face towards the wall isn’t the most effective way to convince everyone that she’s not a waste of their limited resources. But it’s not like she’ll be able to win them over anyway. And her bones are just so heavy, all of the time. It’s not worth the effort to drag herself out of bed just to face the same cabin full of the same girls who hate her guts in the same freezing wilderness. Every. Single. Day.

Shauna’s sleeping downstairs again, but she never comes over to keep Jackie warm. She used to drive soup over to Jackie’s house whenever she was sick, read to her and brush back her hair and fill her in on what she missed at school or practice. Jackie hated letting her own mother see her without any makeup on, but she never minded when Shauna saw her flushed and sweaty, with mucus dripping from her nose.

She let Shauna in. Only Shauna. And now she’s paying the price. 

Nobody really talks to Jackie. Misty tries, sometimes, but she doesn’t seem to expect that Jackie will talk back. Lottie alternates between staring at her creepily, brow permanently furrowed, and just plain ignoring her. The JV girls, who she was never all that close to, don’t waste the effort — although Akilah brings her food on the days she really can’t get up. Van and Tai glance at her and exchange concerned looks, apparently assuming that her lack of reaction correlates to a lack of sight, but don’t do much other than invite her to join them all for dinner and story time.

Travis is avoiding her, which Jackie is secretly thankful for. And can’t really blame him for, considering that Javi still hasn’t been found. Jackie’s genuinely worried about him, even through her constant depressive haze.

Nat isn’t talking to her, either, but she doesn’t actually seem all that upset. They’re just out searching and hunting from dawn to dusk, and by the time they get back to the cabin they’re usually too exhausted to do anything but eat and sleep.

So Jackie lays there and lays there. She doesn’t talk. She doesn’t work. She’s not even completely sure how much time has passed.

And then, finally, Shauna comes to talk to her.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

It’s late enough that all the other girls are asleep. Jackie blinks awake, for no real reason, to find Shauna’s hand hovering over her hair. Shauna‘s sitting on the floor next to Jackie, her eyes endlessly deep in the shadows of the night. She pulls her hand back like she's been burned, like Jackie is something it would hurt to touch. Shauna looks worried rather than guilty or frustrated, which is enough to keep Jackie from rolling over and screwing her eyes shut. 

“Jackie,” she whispers, “Can we talk?”

Which is so unfair. Jackie’s torn between screaming at her and bursting into tears. Two weeks of silence, and Shauna wants to talk?

Jackie should definitely say no. If it was daytime, or if they were back home, she probably would. But the sight of Shauna’s hair falling loose over her shoulders, the curve of her cheek almost shining in the moonlight that falls through the windows, has Jackie’s heart beating harder than it has in weeks.

Maybe she wants to fight with Shauna. Maybe she wants to be hurt by her. At least she would have her again, just for a moment. That must be better than the endless nothingness which comes from being without her.

Jackie throws off her blankets and gets up without answering. Surprise wins out over the relief in Shauna’s face, but she walks silently with Jackie into the kitchen.

It’s so cold, even inside. Jackie can’t seem to get used to it, although she should probably be the most desensitized out of everyone. She hugs her arms around her stomach before realizing that she looks anxious and stupid, then drops them and watches mutely as Shauna sits at the rickety table. Jackie leans against the table in muscle memory.

This could be a sleepover, she thinks. The darkness hides the walls of the cabin, making it easy to imagine they're in Shauna's kitchen at home. They could be giggling together over a midnight snack, like they have a million times before. Jackie could be pretending not to notice the way Shauna's favorite pajama shirt slips off her shoulder and exposes the delicate line of her collarbone. 

Gen snores loudly from the main room, shattering the illusion. Jackie stands up straight.

“I know you hate me right now,” Shauna starts, and Jackie is so sick of her sad eyes. Hasn’t she been doing what Shauna wants? Isn’t Shauna better off without Jackie? Isn’t this what she wanted?

Still, she keeps her mouth shut.

Shauna continues, “But things are getting bad around here. Everyone’s hungry and desperate and scared. And they’re really pissed at you right now.”

Jackie coughs out a bitter laugh, finding her voice for the first time in weeks. 

“That is such bullshit,” she rasps, “They basically almost killed me!”

Shauna looks like she’s got some sort of snappy answer, but she bites down on it. 

“I know, Ja- Jackie. It’s not fair, but it’s true. Look, I’m not just saying this to keep the peace. I’m scared, okay? You really need to get up. You need to find some way to help out. Please, just try.”

Jackie doesn’t want to get up or help out. Most days, Jackie not-so-subconsciously wishes that she died that night in the snow. She doesn’t have the guts, she guesses, to off herself now. She knows it’s selfish to be eating the other girls’ food, but starvation is actually really fucking painful. So she’s been relatively content to let the wilderness, or the other girls, sort it out for her.

And now Shauna, who’s a good seventy-five percent of the reason why Jackie’s both still living and wants to die, is asking her to go back to trying. Jackie doesn’t even have the energy to get off the floor most of the time, but Shauna wants her to try. 

“For what?” Jackie says tonelessly.

Shauna seems a little shocked. She looks down at the ground, then back up to scrutinize Jackie.

“I don’t matter, Shauna. I’m not going to let you save me out of- pity, or guilt, or whatever the hell this is.”

She’s humiliated to feel tears streaming down her cheeks. Shauna goes all blurry, distorted by the saltwater film over Jackie’s eyes. 

“It’s not pity, Jax. You’re my best friend.”

And isn’t that just a kick to the stomach. Jackie’s really crying now. She keeps imagining that she’ll have the high ground, that Shauna will come to her begging for forgiveness and Jackie will be able to turn her away, but Jackie cares more than Shauna does. So there’s no version of this conversation where she comes out on top.

“Then why did you fuck my boyfriend?” 

It comes out as a plea. God, Jackie just wants to know why. She’s been wondering for weeks, and it seems fair to ask for an answer. She wants Shauna to give specific reasons for her hatred of Jackie — when it started, how it grew — so that Jackie can pinpoint exactly when their friendship died and she didn’t even see it. 

Shauna gazes up at the ceiling, down, to the side. Anywhere Jackie isn’t. She rests a hand on her baby bump like it’s a shield.

“I don’t know,” she whispers.

Jackie sniffs against her tears. This is why she’s been burying herself in blankets and ignoring Shauna. She was wrong before; the nothingness is so much better than this heartbreak. It’s pure, jagged-edged pain, and Jackie’s just not strong enough to take it.

She stumbles out of the kitchen and sinks back into her makeshift bed. Shauna doesn’t say a word.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Jackie’s been pulled back into herself, though, and she can’t seem to rest even when she’s asleep. 

Shauna was right. The air inside the cabin is impossibly more tense than it was two weeks ago. Shauna keeps cutting their rations of bear meat, Nat and Travis aren’t bringing back any game because they’re still searching for Javi, and Lottie’s wilderness magic is doing approximately zilch for all that half the cabin has adopted it as their new religion. 

And a decent share of that frustrated desperation is being trained on Jackie. 

Nobody talks to her, of course. But they do glare at her. Now that she’s more alert, Jackie catches resentful whispers about Jamestown and the cutting off of her food supply.

The easiest thing would just be to let them. For most of the day, Jackie’s pretty sure that she will. But then Nat and Travis come in, flushed from the cold and clearly not talking, and Jackie feels a flash of guilt. 

Because, after reflection, she does feel shitty about sleeping with Nat’s Travis. She and Natalie definitely haven’t always seen eye to eye, but Nat was something like a friend back home and she’s been keeping them all alive out here.

Also, Jackie knows pretty intimately how it feels when your friend hooks up with your boyfriend. She hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone, she’d just…wanted. And now she feels pretty responsible for the visible tension between Nat and Travis. 

Shauna’s words echo in her ears — you really need to get up. God, Jackie wants to do just about anything but that. But she can’t lay down and die until she’s found some way to make it up to Nat, at least partially.

Shauna’s out to get some of the meat for dinner, but she won’t be gone long. So Jackie drags herself out of bed and over to where Nat is stripping off her layers in front of the fire. Everyone goes quiet for a moment to watch her, but Jackie does her best to make it look like she’s capable of ignoring the eyes on her.

Nat is definitely shocked to see her come over, but she scooches over a little to let Jackie sit on the floor beside her.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Taylor,” Nat snipes. It’s far from her best work, which Jackie takes as a sign of her exhaustion.

“I’m sorry for sleeping with Travis,” Jackie says plainly. 

Two weeks ago, she wouldn’t dream of apologizing. Nat and Travis weren’t officially together, Travis was his own person, it wasn’t even a big deal — she’d had a dozen excuses at her fingertips. Now none of them matter. Jackie took something of Nat’s, she feels bad about it, and she wants to make it up to her. 

In some ways, it’s simpler than it would’ve been back in school. In others, it’s a lot more complicated; there’s no way to avoid each other, for one. But Jackie can’t really bring herself to care. This is just tying up loose threads, she tells herself.

Nat snorts in surprised amusement. 

“It’s fine. I mean, that was fucked up, but I’m over it. We’ve got bigger things to worry about,” she says.

Which is a very Natalie answer — wry, honest, practical. It would make Jackie feel a little ridiculous if Nat weren’t obviously annoyed. 

“Seriously,” Jackie insists, “I’m really sorry.”

“Seriously,” Nat mirrors, “Forget about it.”

There’s frustration rising within Jackie, further proof that the nothingness is ebbing away. Which sucks, actually, because it’s been a pretty great buffer between her and everything else out here.

“Listen, I get it. I don’t need you to forgive me, just- Give me something to do. Please”

Nat scoffs.

“What, like that’ll fix everything? If you’re looking for a way to get back in everyone’s good graces, this isn’t it.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

Jackie wonders for a moment if this is pointless. Nat’s always had a hidden soft side, but the key word there is usually hidden. She’s also prickly and angry and can be vicious when she wants to; and this is looking like a time when she wants to.

Instead, Nat glances around the cabin. All the other girls have shuffled away to give them space, but people are definitely listening. Jackie realizes with a start that Shauna came back inside sometime during their hushed talk. She’s hovering where the main room meets the kitchen, holding a tray of bear meat and staring like she wants to say something. When Jackie looks up at her, Shauna turns away and says something to Taissa.

“Fine,” Nat says, “There’s something you can help with. If you’re up for it.”

Jackie isn’t up for anything. But she listens to Shauna’s voice, rising and falling and mingling with Tai’s, and steels herself.

“What do you want me to do?”

Chapter 4: gotta keep ’em separated

It’s so fucking freezing out.

Natalie gave Jackie the warm coat, but it’s doing approximately nothing to stop her from shivering. She doesn’t know how Nat is trudging through the snow like it’s nothing, ignoring the way it bites at every bit of exposed skin.

Jackie’s been carrying the cold in her bones for weeks, but this is definitely the worst it’s been. Agreeing to this trek through the woods was the worst idea Jackie’s had since she thought, I should totally confront Shauna right now.

The sun is starting to set, its soft light glinting on the snow that blankets the forest. Six months ago, Jackie probably would’ve thought it was beautiful. Now she’s just worried about nightfall.

Nat wouldn’t tell her what they’re headed to the plane for. 

“Travis needs to sleep, but it’s better not to go out alone,” she said.

So here they are, walking without talking, Nat ahead of Jackie because she’s so far out of shape she probably couldn’t even kick a soccer ball let alone sprint after it. Jackie’s still half sure that this is a plot to murder her. But Nat isn’t really the type, and anyway it wouldn’t be the worst way to go.

By the time they get to the plane Jackie feels like she’s been walking on the surface of the sun. Gravity has definitely increased; her limbs feel like they’re made of lead, dragging her down deeper into the snow. She’s sweating like an absolute pig and feeling her skin crack against the icy wind at the same time. Natalie seems relatively unbothered, which means Jackie can’t even take the time to stop and pant. 

Except, she’s exhausted. And her last shreds of dignity were torn into nothing while she laid unmoving on the ground for two weeks. So Jackie doubles over, resting her weight on her knees, and gasps for air. Nat lets her be for a minute before saying, “All right, Captain, let’s go.”

Jackie really doesn’t want to go, but she has this stupid debt to pay. She straightens her spine and follows Nat into the plane.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

It’s actually not as terrifying as Jackie had expected. There’s only a dusting of snow in the plane’s hull, unlike the two feet outside, and it’s not much darker than the woods already were even with the windows iced over. She’s not exactly thrilled to be back inside what was almost her coffin, but at least it’s shelter from the wind. 

Still, Jackie stops almost immediately inside the gaping doorway. Walking into the remains of their plane is a total trip. She wraps her arms tight around her body to stop herself from shaking and does her best to ignore how vaguely dizzy she feels. 

Natalie huffs to herself, breath steaming in the arctic air, pulls out the hunting knife and starts slashing at the closest seatbelt. She speaks distractedly, without looking over her shoulder at Jackie.

“I’ve been adding layers under the coat, but they won’t stay. So I’ll use these–” Nat wrenches the belt loose “–to keep it all together.”

“Smart,” Jackie mutters honestly. She definitely wouldn’t have thought of that. But if they’re already using the plane…

“Why don’t you use the seats?”

“What?”

Jackie gestures to the rows around them as Nat turns to look at her for the first time since they left the cabin. 

“The seats. They’re covered in leather, right? So we could use them for blankets or whatever. And they’ve got to be stuffed with something. Maybe you could put that in your coat instead of books.”

Nat’s eyebrows pull together a little, her face settling into the same contours it used to when Jackie used to mediate arguments or outlining drills. It’s the look of someone listening to her. Jackie jolts a little at the expression; she hasn’t seen it on Natalie’s face in months, but it’s bizarrely familiar. Only it belongs on the field or in the locker room or Lottie’s backyard. Not here, in the snowy white wreck of the plane that managed to make Jackie wish they’d lost states, three feet from the dried bloodstain of a months-dead teammate.

“That’s actually a good idea,” Nat says. 

“Gee, thanks,” Jackie deadpans halfheartedly. 

The sun is setting, so they work quickly. Nat tosses Jackie a knife – because apparently there are plenty to go around – and she hacks at the seat opposite to Nat. 

It turns out leather, even cheap singed leather that’s been exposed to the elements for about six months, is difficult to cut. They only manage to make it through two seats before Natalie decides it’s time to head back. Jackie’s a little too relieved that they won’t be dealing with her or Shauna’s seats today, because that’s a memory lane she would very much not like to stroll down. 

The relief only lasts a moment, though, because the walk back to the cabin is three times worse than the walk away from it. Jackie’s got armfuls of the seat stuffing (which is some sort of foam, not cloth like she’d expected) bundled up in unfairly slippery leather. Nat said something about making gloves, which actually isn’t a terrible idea, and Jackie thinks briefly about clothes for Shauna’s baby before shoving that thought very far away. 

Night falls fast, which is nothing short of completely terrifying. 

By the time they get back to the cabin Jackie’s everything hurts and her lungs feel like shriveled up grapes. She’s distantly aware that she’s starving but can’t even muster the energy to get food. Nat all but collapses on the couch, telling Van a little too loudly about Jackie’s idea. Jackie hovers awkwardly in the middle of the main room for a moment before handing off her materials to a bewildered Mari and shuffling back over to her blanket pile.

“Jackie,” Natalie calls, and she freezes. 

“Can you come back out tomorrow? If we leave earlier we’ll have more light.”

Jackie opens her mouth to answer, but Shauna interrupts from where she’s seated in the window.

“Don’t you need to hunt?”

The mood in the cabin, which had just lightened at the growth of resources, plummets back down to its usual level of desperate starvation. Nat falters for a moment as the girls’ hungry eyes catch on her.

“They should go to the plane,” Lottie says.

She’s standing in the shadows, on the opposite side of the fireplace as Shauna. The flicker of firelight mingles with darkness to cast eerie patterns across her face. Jackie can’t even see her eyes. 

And then Lottie steps forward, and she’s just a girl again.

“It won’t make a difference anyway.”

The hair on the back of Jackie’s neck raises in response to the sadness in Lottie’s voice, but Shauna doesn’t seem to notice it. 

“Of course it would.”

“I’ll hunt,” Nat seems to have found her voice. “But staying warm is almost as important as food now. And it’ll be good to cover more ground.”

Shauna’s still inexplicably frustrated, but she drops it with a quiet, “Fine.” 

“I’ll go with you,” Jackie says.

It’s as much of a surprise to her as it clearly is to everyone else. Today was awful, and the last thing she wants to do is take another hike through the bitter wilderness. But Shauna doesn’t seem to want her to, which is apparently motivation enough to subject herself to torture.

Jackie tries to catch Shauna’s eye for a moment before remembering herself and flopping down onto her threadbare blankets. It’s just so frustrating, not being able to know what’s going on in Shauna’s head. It’s always driven Jackie crazy, even though she could usually read Shauna like a book.

Although apparently she’d never really been able to.

Jackie’s last thought before falling asleep isn’t about the plane, or the team, or tomorrow. It’s Shauna’s honest, Or maybe you never did.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Over the next few days, Jackie falls into a routine. She sleeps long and late, ignoring the other girls, until Nat comes back from hunting. Then she gets up, bundles up, and they trek out to the plane. They salvage what they can – Natalie has Jackie lugging sheets of metal through the woods now, plus the material from the seats – and head to the cabin before it gets dark. Jackie eats and then immediately returns to sleeping.

Jackie’s definitely not, like, invigorated by a sense of purpose. It’s just what she does. The only real change is that her appetite is back, which sucks ass because there’s still nothing to eat but scraps of bear meat. Also, the rest of the girls seem to hate her a little less actively now. Jackie figures she’s just on the back burner for now.

Shauna’s still upset about it, which is as confusing as it is ridiculous. Because, hello? Shauna was the one who told Jackie to get up and do something. And here Jackie is, up. Doing something.

Maybe Shauna’s just pissed that Jackie is learning to function without her. Which should probably encourage Jackie to establish her independence, or whatever, but it’s making Jackie’s heart flutter in a really fucked up way to see that Shauna still cares. In the loosest sense of the word.

Not that she’d ever admit it to anyone. And not that they’re back to being friends.

Natalie talks to Jackie for the first real time five days into their salvaging mission, inside of the plane’s hollow metal body.

“You should make up with Shauna,” she begins without any warning.

Jackie pauses scraping bits of singed carpet to gape up at Nat.

“What?”
Nat looks away, down to where she’s gathering foam from yet another seat.

“You guys have been moping for weeks. You especially. It’s seriously terrible for morale.”

Jackie follows her example, scraping furiously.

“Since when do you give a shit about morale?”

She isn’t looking at Natalie, but Jackie can hear the eye roll in her voice as she responds, “Everyone gives a shit about morale. You used to be all about it, remember, Captain?”
Jackie’s laugh scrapes at her throat. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore. We’re all gonna die, remember?”

Natalie stops working and Jackie has to look up at her. Nat looks genuinely upset, frowning down at Jackie with righteous anger.

“As someone working her ass off to keep us all alive, fuck you. Enough of the ‘we’re all gonna die’ bullshit, Jackie. That’s what’ll actually kill us.”

Jackie finds herself surprisingly cowed under the intensity of Nat’s glare. Apparently being the hunter out here has given her real authority. Jackie imagines telling that to any teacher, parent, or cop back home and feels a flash of something that vaguely resembles amusement.

“Anyway,” Nat continues, “Shauna slept with your boyfriend. It was messed up, and she hurt your feelings. So what? She obviously feels bad about it. Are you seriously going to throw your friendship away for Jeff Sadecki?”

“She does not obviously feel bad about it,” Jackie scoffs, “And this isn’t about him. It’s about Shauna. Like, she went out of her way just to hurt me. She’s not even into Jeff. He doesn’t even know how to get a girl off! You know I had to fake it every single time?”

And that’s the thing. That’s why Jackie’s so hurt. She’d only let Jeff touch her so that she could keep a hold of him, a way he and everyone else saw her. Because she was supposed to want him. It was supposed to be hard to say no to having sex, to turn down dates because Shauna was freaking out over a Calc test, to get dropped off before Shauna so that they weren’t left alone in the car together after Lottie’s party. Everyone else needed to believe that it really was.

Because having a boyfriend was a way to laugh off the rumors whispered in bathrooms between Algebra II and AP Lit (I heard that Jackie Taylor and Shauna Shipman are total dykes for each other), a way to roll her eyes when Jeff got that strange look in his eyes and said Do you even like me?

Jackie had done it all – swallowed cum and choked on cock and scrubbed at her mouth until her gums bled – so that she could sleep in bed next to Shauna and still manage to face her mother over breakfast. She’d done it because she loved Shauna. And now she knows that Shauna had been laughing with Jeff behind her back all along.

Jackie loves Shauna, but Shauna wanted to hurt Jackie. And she just can’t seem to stop realizing it.

“Sorry, you’re saying – you’re not actually into Jeff, but you’re pissed that Shauna slept with him?”

Natalie’s eyeing Jackie like she’s putting a puzzle together, which Jackie doesn’t like at all. So she returns to the point.

“I’m pissed that my best friend fucked a guy she doesn’t even like just so she could have something over me!”

“Jesus Christ, you two,” Natalie shakes her head, “Who are you really jealous of, Jackie?”

Jackie falters. That’s not the kind of question people are supposed to ask her. She’s Jackie Taylor: prom queen, team captain, girlfriend. She can’t be jealous over her best friend.

“Not like it matters,” she settles on saying. “I couldn’t raise morale if I tried. Everyone hates me.”

Natalie laughs humorlessly.

“They don’t hate you,” she says, “They’re jealous of you.” 

Jackie looks at her, expecting to find cruelty or pity or something equally as humiliating. Instead, Nat just seems honest. Maybe a little sad.

“You had everything back home. High school everything, at least. You were all any of those girls wanted to be.”

“And now I’ve got nothing,” Jackie sighs.

Natalie shakes her head.

“Nah. You’re just doing nothing.”

She digs out the last bit of the seat and looks around. Jackie notices suddenly that night is falling. Natalie hoists the shotgun back onto her shoulder and starts gathering everything up, a clear signal that it’s time to head back.

They walk to the cabin in silence – or what would be silence, if it weren’t for Jackie’s panting. She’s still thinking about their conversation when they reach the cabin’s rickety porch.

“Talk to Shauna. I don’t think she did it just to hurt you.”

And then Nat’s headed inside, leaving Jackie alone in the biting winter air.

Chapter 5: those yesterdays coming down

They’re still stuck in the cabin.

It’s freezing even with the protection of the walls and the fire; only Nat and Travis venture into the woods for extended periods of time. Even with what Jackie and Natalie salvaged from the plane all last week, the girls have just one warm coat and relatively few miscellaneous items of clothing. Only a few people can go out at a time, and only for necessities. 

Shauna takes a trip out to their makeshift shed once a day to grab slivers of bear meat for dinner. The cold is keeping it preserved, which is one of winter’s only benefits out in the wilderness.

The other is that, since going outside feels fatal (nearly was fatal, which Shauna has been having nightmares about for a month), Jackie is never too far away. She still won’t talk to Shauna, but she can’t escape off into the woods. They’re kept in forced proximity, which Shauna is guiltily grateful for. 

It was terrifying to watch her head into the woods with Natalie. Shauna sat frozen in the window every time, watching the trees swallow Jackie whole and then waiting for hours until they spit her back out into the clearing around the cabin. It still makes her panic, when doesn’t know where Jackie is. Takes her right back to that moment when she looked out the attic window and saw snow cutting through the inky black. The old Jackie Jackie Jackie chant runs through her mind incessantly, but it’s a lot less overwhelming when Jackie is in sight. Alive and healthy, except for the occasional scraping cough that stubbornly refuses to go away.

On the other hand, it’s torture to be so close. Being near Jackie is like gazing at a candlelit feast behind window panes; Shauna can look, but not taste. She can watch as Jackie languishes in bed, but can’t comfort her. She can see Jackie drag herself out of bed, venturing to and from the plane, clumsily sewing the materials she salvaged into gloves and hats and leg warmers; but Shauna has to know that this improvement is only in spite of her.

Shauna's been hungry all the time lately. She wakes up flushed with want from dreams where Jackie’s skin is caught between her teeth, an aching deep and low within her, and can’t quite tell what she’s starving for.

She also can’t quite look Jackie in the eyes. Not that she’s given the chance.

To make matters worse, Shauna isn’t sleeping up in the attic anymore. Van has started spending the nights with Tai, making Shauna an awkward third wheel despite their insistence that she’s welcome to stay. Plus, Shauna doesn’t want to leave Jackie – regardless of mortifying dreams. Her presence only seems to make Jackie miserable, but it helps to see exactly where her (ex)best friend is after waking up from nightmares.

Shauna’s sleeping through her first dreamless night in weeks when she wakes to a stabbing pain in her lower stomach and wetness between her legs.

The pain passes quickly, but Shauna is too terrified to move. It’s too soon, way too soon, she’s supposed to have more time. And- and it’s dark, and Tai is all the way up in the attic and the only help she’ll find here is Misty, because she’s fucking pregnant in the middle of the fucking wilderness. No, oh God, she’s in labor. And Jackie’s pissed at her and she really wants her Mom-

Shauna manages to pull herself up onto shaking legs. She stumbles over sleeping bodies and splayed out limbs toward the kitchen, leaning her right hand hard against the wall whenever she can. It’s too dark to see out of the main room, and for a moment she’s irrationally afraid that she’ll get lost in the dark. But her feet stay steady even if her breathing isn’t, pushing her forwards. 

She’s almost made it to the kitchen when another cramp tears through her abdomen.

Shauna bites down against a scream, drawing blood from the gummy flesh behind her bottom lip. She doubles over her stomach, clutching helplessly at the pain. It fucking hurts, and this is only the second contraction. And the baby’s two months too early, what if it dies? What if Shauna dies?

She can’t do this. She can’t–

“Shauna?” Jackie whispers.

The pain fades and Shauna looks to find Jackie sitting up in her pile of blankets, eyes wide in the dim light. She’s the only one awake, closer to Shauna than anyone else because she’s separated herself from the sleeping pile. And she looks nearly as scared as Shauna does.

Shauna straightens up rather than answering, still panting. 

“Oh my God,” Jackie says, “Is it the baby?”

Shauna can’t manage anything but a nod, suddenly aware of the tears streaming down her cheeks. She tastes salt in the corner of her mouth and is hit with a vicious hunger pain, which is such ridiculously shitty timing that she feels a crazed laugh building in her throat.

She swallows it, though, and watches silently as Jackie pushes off her blankets to stand up.

“Fuck, holy shit, should I wake up Misty?”

“No!” Shauna whispers harshly. Absolutely not. Waking up Misty would make this real, and Shauna needs it to not be real. Shauna needs–

Proper medical attention. An abortion, about six months ago. Not to have ever slept with Jeff. Jackie to give her a necklace, pull her into a tight hug, tell her that everything’s going to be okay because they’re in it together.

But Shauna hurt Jackie and she blew up together, and nothing about this is okay.

Jackie panics, “ Shauna, I can’t-”

“I don’t need Misty,” Shauna insists, “Just. Take me to the kitchen, okay? Please.” 

Jackie wavers for a moment. Shauna half expects her to turn around and curl back up under the blankets, to let Shauna deal with this alone. But Jackie steps forward and wraps a wiry arm around Shauna’s waist. They hobble into the kitchen together.

Shauna sits down heavily in a seat by the long table. Jackie rips away quickly, like she can’t stand to touch Shauna, but hovers in front of her.

“Thank you,” Shauna murmurs, crying in earnest now. She wants to look down at the wet spot between her legs but can’t muster the courage. 

She’s pretty sure it’ll be blood.

“It’s okay,” Jackie answers softly. Shauna swipes angrily at the tear tracks mingling with the dirt on her face.

“It’s not. I’m sorry, Jackie.”

She’s not apologizing for this, and Jackie knows it. Silence falls between them like a curtain. Shauna closes her eyes, exhausted, and lets herself imagine that Jackie’s helping her because they’re still friends.

“Uh, wait a minute,” Jackie murmurs. And then she backs out of the kitchen, leaving Shauna alone in the dark.

Shauna’s breath hitches into a sob. She presses her hands to her stomach, right where she felt the baby kicking before she fell asleep. She never wanted this thing inside of her in the first place, but now she desperately doesn’t want it out. For herself, definitely. But she realizes that she’s scared for her baby, too. She doesn’t want it to die.

“Please,” she whispers to her belly, “Please stay in there.”

Jackie comes back into the kitchen so long after leaving Shauna was sure she’d gone back to bed. She’s carrying a bucket of icy water, which she half drops at Shauna’s feet.

“Take off your sweatshirt,” Jackie says expectantly. Shauna stares at her in confusion.

Jackie makes a frustrated hurry up gesture, pulling off her own letterman jacket. Shauna yanks off the sweatshirt and hands it to Jackie in exchange for the jacket, which she pulls around herself out of instinct. A bitter old voice in the back of her head hisses, Good dog. But Shauna ignores it in favor of watching a shivering Jackie kneel and dunk her sweatshirt into the water.

“We can do your pants next.” 

Shauna can feel herself frowning as she asks, “Why?”

Jackie falters, her hands coming up to rest on the bucket’s rim as she stares at Shauna. She glances down Shauna’s body, making her face feel suddenly hot.

And then she realizes what Jackie’s looking at, and looks down at her lap. It’s not blood or water coating Shauna’s inner thighs. It’s piss.

Because of course Shauna woke Jackie up after peeing the bed.

Jackie goes back to rinsing the sweatshirt, letting Shauna realize the extent of her mortification in silence.

“You don’t have to clean me up,” Shauna says, “You can go back to bed.”

“Shut up,” Jackie snaps, uncharacteristically harsh. Shauna settles back into her old position and obeys. For the first time in a long time, she doesn’t really mind it.

Jackie isn’t looking at her, so Shauna takes the time to stare at Jackie. She’s lost that effortless shine she wore like a second skin back home; her face is gaunt, her frame leaning more towards skeletal than lean. Jackie hasn’t bothered with makeup or hair curlers in nearly a month; she’s just as disheveled and dirty as the rest of them. 

But still. Always still. She gleams softly in the scant moonlight, and the sight of her makes Shauna ache just like it always has – in their beds back home or the passenger seat of Shauna’s car, illuminated the fluorescent lighting of Wiskayok High, under the sun beating down on the soccer field or the full moon over Lottie’s backyard.

Shauna wants to brush out her hair and do her makeup. She wants to zip Jackie into dresses and wrap her up in hugs and lean on her when she’s laughing. She wants to drag out the secret handshake that they made up in the fifth grade just so that their fingers can brush. 

Shauna yearns to touch Jackie. All the time. And she used to be able to but she isn’t any more, and that hurts so much more than it should.

“Why did you do it?” Jackie asks. 

Shauna feels the defensiveness rising up again, the fangs snapping out. But the last time she gave into her instincts Jackie almost froze to death, and Shauna is so sick of hurting her. So she forces herself to breathe, let the moment pass, and answer like a rational human being instead of a rabid dog.

“I just… I don’t know, Jackie. It was a lot of things.”

Jackie sits and stares at her, her furiously bright eyes eerie in the shadowed room, waiting for an answer. Shauna halters her way through a response.

“You just- you were backseat driving my whole life, Jax. It was like I was just some prop to make you feel better about yourself. Jackie Taylor’s best friend. And that was fine in high school, but then you were going on and on about Rutgers, and it was like I could see it all. My whole life, never getting to be anything more than your sidekick. Never figuring out where you end and I begin. I couldn’t take it. I was drowning, and I climbed into the closest life raft.”

Jackie inhales shakily enough to let Shauna know that she’s trying not to cry. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” 

Shauna thumbs one of the buttons on Jackie’s letterman jacket. She thinks about last Halloween, at Jeff’s party. Jeff and Jackie were a tactlessly charismatic JFK and Marilyn Monroe, respectively, and Shauna was a shoddily costumed Ellen Ripley. The party was generally miserable; Jeff’s backyard was three times more cramped than Lottie’s, the party was on a Thursday so Shauna had been awake since seven a.m., and she had a calc test the next day.

Shauna had sat shivering by the bonfire, and Jackie had insisted she borrow her letterman. Shauna had tried to say no — it would totally ruin her costume, and Jackie’s white dress was way more exposing anyway. But Jackie had pushed and pushed, and Shauna couldn’t stand a chance against her long batting eyelashes.

That was how it always went: Jackie pushing, Shauna conceding. Rolling over and exposing the defenseless flesh of her stomach. 

“Jesus, Jackie, you were picking out our dorm colors. It’s not like you were looking for feedback.”

Absurdly, Jackie looks more hurt at this than anything Shauna’s said so far.

“You like green!” She insists. Shauna feels that twisted laugh building again.

“Not enough to live in it!”

Jackie’s eyes are shattered glass slicing at the meat of Shauna’s heart. She takes another deep breath, doing her utmost to push the bitterness away. 

“I felt invisible,” she confesses, “Whenever I was with you. It was- you made me feel like I was the only person in the world, sometimes, but you never listened. And you just shine. Who would ever look at me while I’m standing next to you?”

Jackie trains her eyes on the bucket that Shauna’s sweatshirt is currently soaking in. 

“I’m always looking at you,” she sniffs. 

Shauna’s tinder to a flame.

But it’s like she’s unlocked the floodgates, and she can’t stop speaking now. Jackie needs to hear this.

“Jackie, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had. But you couldn’t see me. You were too focused on how everyone else saw you."

Jackie gazes up into Shauna’s face, kneeling at the foot of her chair like a supplicant. Shauna’s breath catches as she realizes what a frighteningly intimate position they’re in.

Everyone else is asleep. Shauna’s closer to Jackie than she has been in nearly a month.

“You made me happier than anything,” Jackie says. Her voice sounds strangled, and Shauna’s throat tightens in response. “But you were drowning. You hated me the whole time.”

“I wasn’t,” Shauna whispers, and she’s almost surprised to find that it’s true, “I didn’t.”

Jackie shakes her head, like she’s closing herself off again, but Shauna continues. 

“That night when you… It was the most scared I’ve ever been. Even more scared than I am right now. And I’ve been missing you so bad it physically hurts. I thought I wanted you out of my life, but I don’t. Ever.”

For the first time she can remember, Shauna can’t get a read on Jackie. Her face is inscrutably solemn. 

“I think that’s why I did it. It was easier than telling you the truth about how I felt, because I was so terrified of losing you. I can’t lose you, Jax.”

She hiccups against her tears, pulling Jackie’s jacket tighter around herself. Jackie’s opening her mouth to say something when another knife of pain twists in Shauna’s stomach.

She gasps and pitches forward a little, hands twisting in the jacket. Jackie catches her shoulders, nails digging into her skin even through the layers Shauna’s bundled herself in.

“You’re okay,” Jackie says desperately as the pain fades. Shauna leans her head forward in exhaustion, nearly brushing the crown of Jackie’s forehead.

“I’m sorry,” she cries. It’s pathetic; Shauna’s sweating and heaving, pee soaking her pants, bawling like a baby, crawling back to Jackie. She would be mortified if she weren’t so miserable.

“I’m so sorry, I love you, I’m sorry. Please, Jackie, I really need you right now. Please.”

Shauna doesn’t want to be a lapdog anymore. But in this moment she cares more about Jackie than her independence. 

She’s expecting Jackie to pull away again, scream in her face, shut her out. It would only be fair.

Instead, Jackie sighs once and pulls Shauna into her arms.

Shauna gasps in relief as Jackie holds her. She fists her fingers in the cloth of Jackie’s shirt, dragging her impossibly closer, and rests her head on Jackie’s shoulder. Jackie’s shaking, too, revealing her tears.

“I’m sorry,” Jackie mutters, “I’m sorry, too. It’s okay, Shauna, we’re okay.”

They’re crying and starving and terrified. Shauna’s probably going into labor. But they hold each other tight enough that, for a moment, none of it matters.

——————————————

 

The pains stop pretty quickly after that. Jackie manages to convince Shauna that they were just false labor.

“It’s normal,” she swears, “Braydon-Hicks or whatever. Remember when my cousin had them at the Christmas party?”

Jackie definitely isn’t a prenatal authority, but Shauna’s too worn out to care. They finish rinsing off her clothes and then Shauna hauls her blankets over Jackie’s corner, curling up next to her like it’s June. She’s still terrified, but Jackie’s familiarly even breathing sends her tumbling into sleep sooner than Shauna thought was possible.

Jackie’s already awake when she opens her eyes. Shauna grins at her, genuinely happy for the first time in a month. 

“We’re okay?” She whispers.

She knows it’s complicated. They’ve hurt each other so much, and they’re still starving, and there’s a ticking time bomb in Shauna’s stomach. But she’s also warmer than she’s been since the first snow, and she’s close enough to see the tiny scar above Jackie’s temple. She feels safe by Jackie’s side, and that’s enough for now.

Jackie nods, her answering smile a little shy.

“We’re okay.”

Shauna yawns and pulls herself into a sitting position, ignoring the ache in her back. The rest of the cabin is waking up slowly, a pleasantly hushed sound of cloth shifting and girls murmuring filling the room. Mari glances over at Shauna and Jackie with raised eyebrows, but other than that they’re left alone.

“Do you feel alright?” Jackie asks hesitantly.

Shauna looks down at her belly with a flash of panic, pushing a hand against it as if that’ll let her feel inside. She’s about to say I’m not sure when she feels a swift kick against the inner lining of her stomach.

Shauna gasps in relief, smiling instinctively. This is the first time she’s been genuinely thrilled to feel her baby making itself at home within her body.

“It’s kicking,” she explains to a quietly awed Jackie. Jackie smiles back at her, clearly relieved. Shauna thinks, Thank you. Thank you.

It’s a bright moment in the corner of the sunlit cabin, tucked safely under blankets, their heads pressed together, Shauna resting a hand against where the baby is kicking to let her know it’s alright.

Their radiant little bubble bursts suddenly when the door to the cabin is flung open with a BANG! A freezing wind cuts through the main room, and huddling closer to Jackie doesn’t do much to reclaim the warmth. 

Natalie pants in the doorway, eyes wide and wet, looking more helpless than she has since the plane crash.  

“We found Javi,” she breathes, and Shauna’s heart seizes as she realizes what comes next.

“He’s dead.”

Chapter 6: climbing up the walls

Travis lays Javi in the snow so gently it burns at Shauna’s eyes.

Grayish white clouds creep over the sun, promising more snow. They all crowd around in a silent semi-circle, in front of the cabin, no one brave enough to speak. How are they supposed to comfort Travis? He grips the sleeve of Javi’s stained gray sweater, eyes blankly horrified like he can’t even comprehend what’s in front of him. Natalie’s hand rests helplessly on Travis’ shoulder, silently crying, so vulnerable it’s unsettling. Nat is supposed to be the toughest of them, the hardest and strongest. She’s the hunter. She can’t fall apart or they’ll all follow.

Shauna blinks and Javi is a skeleton in the attic, a mixtape distorted, smoke billowing from a sputtering plane. Blinks again and he’s just the empty shell of a boy, body curled against the cold. His skin is bleached and frost covers his nostrils, his cheeks, the small curves of his eyelids. Shauna avoids looking at Jackie and suppresses the twist of nausea in her stomach.

Her fault. This is her fault, just like it always is. She fucked Jeff. She told Javi to run. She told Jackie to leave. And now one of them is dead and the other is haunted by a rattling cough, physically weaker than she was before, maybe for the rest of her life. 

Shauna can’t help but feel like something ruinous and rotten. A cancer, killing the people she loves in her attempts to grow.

“What are we going to do?” Tai finally asks, because of course she does. Because Taissa always needs something to fucking do, some plan or mission or goal to strive for. She was central midfielder for a reason

There are no answers in the lilt of her voice. There are no answers for this, not anywhere.

Travis lets out a pained noise that makes him sound closer to eight than eighteen, tilting away from his little brother’s body like it’s radioactive even as his knuckles go white around Javi’s sleeve. Shauna feels- God, she doesn’t even know what she feels. Too much. Nothing at all.

Lottie glides forward, and it’s like everyone stops breathing. Shauna is out of her body for a moment, pure intuition. Knowledge comes to her like a premonition, like deja vu: what’s about to happen is important. Something rests in Lottie’s hands right now, or maybe everything does.

And then the baby kicks, and Shauna nearly doubles over at the sensation of being pulled back into herself. She rests a hand against what used to be her abdomen and feels the dual pressure of its feet, within her stomach and through her skin. She thinks, We’re okay. Javi is dead and they’re shivering in an icy wasteland and Jackie is still standing slightly apart from her, but the baby is alive and kicking. Shauna yanks the seams of her mind back into place.

Lottie reaches over Javi’s body to cup Travis’ face in her right hand. With her back to Shauna and a sweatshirt hood over her head, there’s nothing to connect her to who she was back home. The Lottie of before. But still, something about the way she’s standing knocks Shauna sideways into memory – Lottie holding Nat’s hair back as she puked into the Matthews’ kitchen sink, at a party in their sophomore or junior or senior year. 

The Lottie of today murmurs, “It won’t be for nothing.”

Travis’ eyes are rimmed with red as he gazes up into the face Shauna can’t see. His hair is dusted with snow. 

Nat shudders and bends down to wrap her arms around his shoulders.

“We need to- we’ve gotta bury him,” Misty croaks.

It’s an appalling thought. Shauna thinks way back to the days after the crash, forming rings above shallow graves. The whole experience felt like a bad dream and Shauna can barely even remember it. And then with Laura Lee, there was nothing to bury. She was just gone, an explosion in the air and bits of twisted metal hurtling down into the lake. Her body must have been incinerated in seconds.

This is nothing like that shock. Shauna’s known that Javi was gone for weeks, even if some small part of her held out hope. But the enormity of it is the same, and now they’re left with a tangible aftermath.

“We can’t,” Van says, “The ground is frozen.”

Silence falls again. 

“We could burn him,” Shauna says, horrified at the scrape of her own voice.

Travis moans a little and bends back over Javi. 

“Jesus, Shauna,” Mari says incredulously. Shauna can’t help but agree with her. She doesn’t even know why she said that. She can’t even picture it. 

Would Javi’s skin melt like plastic? Would his eyeballs blister and pop and leak out of his frozen-over lids? What would be left, ashes? A steaming pile of charred bones? She barely manages to swallow a gag.

“No, she’s right,” Lottie hums, still looking down at Travis. “We shouldn’t keep him like this.”

Travis rattles out something like a sigh. He unfists his hand from Javi’s jacket and then smoothes the cloth so carefully Shauna has to look away – at the bare brown branches arching overhead like the bars of a cage, at the slivers of wide white sky above them. 

At Jackie, looking shell shocked at Shauna’s right. A splinter of fear spikes in her chest at the sight of Jackie’s blank face. It’s the way she looked during those weeks after their fight and the near-miss in the snow, relentlessly huddled on the floor and covered in blankets.

It’s so not the time, but Shauna reaches for her instinctually. Winds her chapped hand around Jackie’s frigid fingers. Jackie twitches slightly and blinks, eyes finding their hands and locking on them. An infinitesimal part of Shauna basks in the relief of watching awareness return to Jackie’s expression.

“We don’t need to worry about that yet,” Natalie snaps, pain sharpening her fury “Let’s just–”

“No,” Travis says. His voice is so strained it’s barely audible, but everyone stills. 

It’s horrific to watch someone grieve like this. Shauna and Travis have never been close, but she feels so helpless her lungs are constricting.

“I can’t- I need to let him go.” 

It’s a plea. For forgiveness, maybe, or just for the possibility of it. And it’s so final Shauna almost wants to say, wait. 

This corpse at their feet is all they have left of Javi. The boy that sort of became everyone’s little brother. The boy that she comforted and cared for, for months. The boy that she loves in a different way than she loves everyone else out here. The closest thing she ever had to a younger sibling.

It may not be him. But it’s his curls, his face. His gentle artists’ hands, still stubbornly in the shape of a child’s.

He’s not her actual little brother, though. He’s Travis’ – so this is Travis’ call to make. And it’s not like they can store his frozen body in the fucking meat shed.

“We’ll make him a pyre,” Lottie says, soft, “We’ll let him go.”

 

——————————————

 

They gather hoary wood from the area around the cabin, working quickly to get out of the cold. Natalie stays behind with Travis, which Shauna doesn’t envy her for. She’d rather brave the biting air of the forest than shoulder the impossibly heavy weight of Travis’ loss. 

She’d rather not think about any of this at all. 

They all pair up in an unspoken agreement that nobody should be alone with this. Shauna has practically glued herself to Jackie’s side, so they collect wood in silence.

It’s unbelievably selfish and Shauna knows it, but she can’t help but be bitter about how unfair this is. She and Jackie had finally talked, and apologized to each other, and started to bridge the chasm between them. It seemed like Jackie had finally listened, and actually heard her. Just last night they slept next to each other, reflecting warmth. Shauna had woken up to her best friend’s smile. And now Shauna’s lightheaded from the cold and they’re building Javi’s funeral pyre.

And Jackie’s scaring her. Something about her is reminding Shauna of the weeks before Doomcoming, when she refused to eat. Or the weeks after, when she refused to do anything but choke down tiny morsels of food.

“Hey,” she says, bending awkwardly around her stomach to pry a log out of the frozen earth. Her breath billows in the air between them, twisting in the dim gray light. Jackie pauses to look at her, but Shauna can’t decipher her expression.

She hates that. Jackie has changed somehow in the last few weeks, without Shauna close enough to fully understand it. She wants to be able to know what Jackie is thinking always, to listen to her thoughts like a radio broadcast. And she used to be able to.

“Are you okay?” she settles on asking.

Jackie shrugs a little and then says, “You shouldn’t be doing this.”

Shauna’s heart stalls out for a second. Doing what, acting like Jackie’s friend? What if last night was just a fluke, and Jackie’s still pissed enough to not want her?

“What?”

“You need to rest, right? I mean, it can’t be good for you to be doing manual labor in, like, negative ten degree weather.”

Shauna exhales in relief. Jackie’s worried about her. That’s familiar territory, and it means that her friend isn’t totally gone right now.

“I’m fine,” she promises. She’s about to say something else – ask about how Jackie’s feeling again, maybe – but then there’s a crack behind her and she whirls around to face it, brandishing her log like a weapon.

“Woah, stand down, soldier!” Van says, palms up and eyebrows raised.

Shauna’s heart rate slows moderately and she lets her arm fall.

“Sorry.”

Van shakes her head and smiles grimly.

“Don’t worry about it.”

She leans down to grab a branch, hissing in pain as a bit of dead underbrush scrapes at her left wrist. Jackie shifts behind Shauna.

“How did that happen?”

Van glances up, rubbing at her wrist. It looks so horrific Shauna isn’t sure how she missed seeing it in the first place – violently red, with flakes of skin peeling away around the edges of the gash.

“Oh, uh, I fell,” Van says.

It’s a blatantly bullshit answer. The wound is almost perfectly circular. But Shauna thinks of Taissa, scared to fall asleep, and stays silent. It’s just a rope burn. They’ve got so many more pressing problems it’s ridiculous.

“Where’s Tai?” Shauna asks. Van goes back to collecting wood.

“With Akilah,” she says, and Shauna believes her. So she doesn’t ask any more questions.

They keep working. The silence of the wintery woods is its own kind of madness.

 

——————————————

 

Natalie lights the funeral pyre. 

They huddle around it, a misshapen funeral party, each spaced out from the other. 

It’s supposed to be Travis. Lottie hands him the torch and everything. But he just stands and sobs and shakes. Javi’s ghostly pale face seemed to flicker alongside the firelight as the day shrinks into night. 

Finally Nat comes forward and pulls him roughly against her, shoving his head into the crook of her neck and fisting a hand in his hair. She pulls back to reveal tear tracks streaking through the grime on her cheeks, and cups his face gently before pulling the torch out of his hands.

She hovers before the pyre for a moment. Shauna wishes she could burn this whole moment, this entire vast wilderness. She’s not sad. She’s fucking incandescent with a rage so scorching she forgets to be cold.

And then Natalie whispers, “You were a good brother, Javi. And a good kid. I wish you were still here. And I’m really sorry.”

Shauna’s anger falls away so quickly she misses it, because all that’s left is this hollow aching feeling that she could never capture in words. 

Javi was just innocent. He was only a kid, and he should have had his whole life ahead of him. He didn’t deserve this. None of them do.

Natalie touches the torch to the wood carefully. They wait for a moment, watching the flame lick at Javi’s arms and swallow his back, watching smoke shield him from view before shuffling back towards the cabin. Nat pulls Travis away.

It’s not closure. But it’s close enough.

 

——————————————

 

Jackie wakes to the smell of food.

Food. Meat cooking. It’s dark and her mouth waters and her hand flies to shove at Shauna’s shoulder in order to wake her up, because there’s barbeque or bacon or fucking something cooking outside. Jackie’s been so hungry and so tired from the pain but now there’s food nearby. It might as well be Christmas morning.

The other girls pull themselves up, blinking in astonishment. Disbelief. Gratitude. Van and Taissa stumble down from the attic, Nat and Travis leave the bedroom. Everyone looks to Lottie, Lottie Lottie Lottie, because this must be another miracle.

They drift outside and it’s-

It’s not a deer or a bear or a miracle. It’s Javi, or what used to be Javi, a pile of bubbling meat. Cooked.

Jackie should be repulsed. She should be cringing or fainting or hurling her guts out. She shouldn’t have this want scraping at her stomach, clawing at her throat, pooling in her mouth.

Nobody stops. They step and step until they’re circling the meat (the body/the meat/the body/the meat). It’s night. It’s like a dream. This can’t be real, so it’s okay. It’s okay that there’s a brightness in Shauna’s eyes that Jackie knows is reflected in her own.

Shauna rests a hand against her stomach. For the baby. It’s so dark out, and Jackie is so hungry, but Shauna is made soft by the starlight. Shauna is the starlight.

Shauna is starving. They’re all starving.

There’s a pause. Jackie’s skin feels alive, like it’s shifting, like it’s crawling. Something is about to happen. She doesn’t watch Lottie. She watches Shauna.

Shauna watches Travis.

“He wants us to,” she says. Whispers. Declares. 

They believe her. Jackie believes her. Or maybe Jackie just wants it.

Still, there's hesitation. They keep waiting. Jackie’s always sucked at waiting. 

And then Travis bends down, and they all bend with him. Eyes on Shauna, who stretches out her hand so slowly it hurts. She pulls off a bit of- what? Meat? Javi?

Meat. 

Shauna brings it to her lips, and it’s like a supernova in Jackie’s gut. She reaches down, too, and hears the others reaching with her, and it’s steaming between her fingers and then-

It’s good. Better than 7-Eleven Slurpees after practice, Dairy Queen blizzards after a game, potato chips drunk in Lottie’s kitchen, Halloween candy and ice cream in the summer and Thanksgiving turkey and Christmas cookies. So, so much better than sex. It’s the physical fucking rush of sticking her head out of a moving car, scoring a championship goal, thumbing gloss onto Shauna’s bottom lip.

For one glorious minute, Jackie is whole. Completely in her body, jaw working and heart pounding and blood rushing; electrically, ecstatically alive.

And then she retches and jerks away, vomiting into the snow. Shauna pauses next to her, shoving against Mari when she tries to bury her hands in Jackie’s portion, watching Jackie with instinctual concern.

But then Jackie turns back for more, and Shauna joins her. They forget their hands — too slow, too starving — and tear into it with their teeth, which are so much longer and stronger than she knew.

It’s delicious. It's dark.

They eat.

Chapter 7: say whatever we’re blanket friends

Jackie wakes up feeling like a person again.

Her stomach isn’t being torn open from the inside, her limbs don’t shake, the pounding headache she’s been just barely coping with for months is hardly noticeable. It’s such an intense relief that she wants to die.

They ate Javi. Jackie fucking ate Javi last night. Like, buried her face into his stomach and tore out his insides with her teeth. And then digested them. She doesn’t- Jesus shitting actual Christ, what is she supposed to do with that?

Jackie pulls her blanket over her head like a little kid hiding from the dark. 

Randomly, she thinks about the dentist’s office back home. It’s probably the uncomfortable pressure of something between her teeth — the paste they used made her choke back a gag every time. But they always complimented Jackie on her straight, clean teeth; you must floss, they would say, not a lot of people do that. It always made her preen a little when people noticed how well she took care of herself. She definitely put a lot of effort into it.

And now here she is, with bits of boy lodged between her canines and her incisors.

She feels so small and awful. It’s worse than her very worst days back home; worse than waking up from that reoccurring dream where she’s staring into her bathroom mirror and peels back a layer of skin on her face to find filthy grime underneath, and she picks and pops until all that’s left is a mangled mass of bloody holes and two eyes gleaming in the glass. It’s so, so bad.

But her stomach is full.

Jackie is so going to hell for this. She hadn’t even really believed in all that stuff before, but she does now because there’s no way she doesn’t deserve eternal damnation. God, this is what she gets for trying. This is what she becomes. Is it worth it?

Little Javi. (not enough meat). She flips back her blanket. She needs to go outside and see-

(if there’s anything left to taste)

Holy fuck, no . If there’s anything left to bury. Or if maybe it was all just some horrific nightmare; because it had felt so much like a dream. It’s already blurring in Jackie’s mind. What exactly did they do? When did she decide to do it?

But she can’t go back outside. She can’t see him, or what’s left of him, to fact check her memories with reality. She just can’t.

The door to the cabin slams closed behind a wild-eyed Taissa, who freezes for a second to stare at the pile of girls stirring on the floor like they’re shit in the pee bucket. Van hurries in behind her and brushes her elbow, and Taissa storms to the ladder and retreats into the attic. She’s been doing that a lot lately. Van follows hot on her heels, something cracked in her frown and fragile in her steps.

And then Natalie blows in and out, apparently intending to bundle up Javi’s remains and take them to the plane. Coach says something about making it look like he died in the crash. Travis still hasn’t come out of the back room.

Jackie doesn’t really have the headspace to think about any of that. So she doesn’t. She pulls herself up so that she’s sitting on her butt and rests her head against her knees, all tucked up like she can make herself little again.

Shauna sits up next to Jackie and licks her lips.

"What…" She starts, and then inhales jaggedly. Jackie can see the exact moment when she remembers.

Shauna clutches at her stomach. Jackie can’t tell if it’s for the baby or because she’s still starving.

Because Jackie’s still starving.

Jackie wants to hold her again. She wants to fuse their ribs together like conjoined twins, and then it’d be fine even if she was a freak because they’d be all stitched together so that their hearts could touch. Or maybe their faces, so that all Jackie ever had to see were those wide, warm brown eyes. 

But she doesn’t even remotely deserve to have Shauna in her arms, so she blinks back tears to stare blankly at where Shauna’s knees rise like mountains under her musty blanket.

Shauna reaches out slowly, resting a hand on Jackie’s shoulder, and it’s so comforting Jackie pulls away on instinct. How could Shauna reach out to her? After- after last night? If Shauna thought Jackie was selfish and insipid before, what does she think of her now?

Shauna saw what Jackie did. Even if they were doing it side by side, she can’t possibly want her.

But, Jackie reminds herself, Shauna hadn’t wanted her before. It’s more of a comfort than it should be. It’s like Shauna said two nights ago — she doesn’t like Jackie. Their friendship made her miserable for at least all of high school. 

But Shauna said, I need you. And Jackie thought oh, fuck off; and, when has that ever not worked; and, please stop hurting me. But mostly she thought that Shauna was crying and terrified and needed her. So she did the most natural, biological thing in the world — pulled a sobbing Shauna into her arms and kept her there for the rest of the night.

Things are different now, whether Jackie agreed to it or not. Shauna needs her, and Jackie’s decided that’s going to have to be enough.

Which hasn’t changed, even after last night. If anything, the fragility in Shauna’s expression is proof that she needs Jackie now more than ever.

And, well, that deeply depressing song Shauna used to like probably said it best. Life is unfair — kill yourself or get over it. Jackie’s already nearly killed herself and it didn’t stick, so. Option B it is. 

Jackie breathes deep enough to feel it in her hips and uncurls herself to sit up. She wraps her arms around Shauna’s shoulders like she has a million times before, tucking her head into the space where Shauna’s left shoulder meets her pale neck.

It’s almost okay. Except then Mari says, "I guess…no one wants breakfast," shakily sarcastic like she’s trying to go back to a time when she could hide behind stupid one-liners, and Jackie’s vision goes fuzzy.

Thank God she’s caught against Shauna now, or she would actually spring out into the snow and let the wilderness take her. Instead all she does is shudder and make this, like, horrible gagging sound that she’s definitely never heard before. 

It’s like she’s outside of herself, listening to a noise like an ancient cat hacking up a hairball, even as it scrapes against her throat. She can see the other girls staring at her even as her eyes close; knows that exact pinched expression by heart.

Of course she can’t take it, she hears them whisper. She doesn’t belong out here.

But that’s not fair. Jackie’s ribs are moving, in and out, in and out. She’s sitting up. She is taking it. This is her taking it.

"Oh my God," Mari gasps, and she forces herself to open her eyes. "It’s because of Jackie."

Shauna’s fingers twitch deep into Jackie’s arms. The walls of the cabin seem to shift and squeeze closer. 

"What do you mean?" Misty frowns.

Mari’s got this weird light of excitement in her gaunt face. She turns to Lottie, face up to where she’s sitting on the couch.

"The wilderness wanted Jackie, right? That night when she almost froze — remember?" She tears her eyes away from Lottie’s unreadable expression, whipping her head around to look at the other girls.

"Lottie said. And it’s been pissed at us ever since! That’s why we haven’t been able to find any food."

It’s not even like Mari’s trying to convince them — she seems to know without a doubt that she’s right. The room sways like the family boat rocking on the Long Island Sound. Shauna pulls out of Jackie’s arms and stands up, her blankets pooling at her feet.

"Shut the fuck up, Mari. Now."

Jackie feels goosebumps rising on the back of her neck. She’s never heard Shauna sound like that, ever. She’s unnervingly frightening, towering over Jackie with her hands clenched into fists, her soft voice laced with fury.

"No, you guys, I’m serious! That’s why it took Javi. A life for a life."

Mari says that last bit so solemnly it’s a little ridiculous, staring at Jackie with her mouth pressed into a line. The other girls turn to her, too, but Jackie only gets a flash of a dozen judges’ eyes weighing her against Mari’s words before Shauna shifts to block her from view.

Jackie’s whole torso is seizing up. She feels like she’s going to puke again. 

It’s not like she believes in Lottie’s wilderness voodoo, but still. Still.

"That’s bullshit," Shauna says firmly, furiously. There’s a self-righteous certainty in her voice that Jackie hasn’t heard in months. She flushes at Shauna’s tone, warmth sparking in her chest.

It’s been a long time since Shauna defended her like that. It’s also the first time Shauna has ever defended her like that. Jackie knows that it’s sort of insane to be so comforted by such an undertone of violence, especially after what happened last night, but she can’t help feeling a little safer than she was two minutes ago.

Still, Mari won’t drop it.

"I’m right, right?" she says, looking back at Lottie. Jackie strains to keep herself from biting her nails. 

Lottie scratches at her right arm absentmindedly. Jackie’s stomach turns at the memory of Misty’s jaggedly black Frankenstein stitches over the angry red gash tracing down Lottie’s veins. Her foreman has healed in the weeks since that night in the snow, and it’s hidden under her faux fur jacket now. But Jackie sees it in her dreams sometimes — the shoddy stitching barely holding in the meat of Lottie’s arms, blood spurting out between the knots. Now it must look more like the places where Jackie’s toes used to be.

“The wilderness doesn’t barter like that,” Lottie says distantly, “It doesn’t trade. It protects whatever it wants, and takes whatever it wants.”

The words should be a relief. Or, no, they shouldn’t be anything. Jackie is so not buying into this cult stuff. But Lottie’s distractedly certain tone is unsettling. Jackie pulls herself onto her feet and twists her fingers into the back of Shauna’s faded blue sweatshirt.

“Well,” Mari says, “still.”

But apparently Lottie has enough influence to get everyone to back off, because nobody is staring at Jackie like she’s a murderer anymore. The cabin settles back into its usual quiet horror — now with a generous helping of guilt and self-disgust. 

Shauna lets Jackie pull her to the corner by the window. They both squeeze into the tiny space, Shauna sitting on the wooden bench nestled next to the fireplace and Jackie leaning against the sill. It’s far from private, but with her knees brushing against Shauna’s she feels sort of ridiculously sheltered.

“I’m sorry,” Shauna huffs, glaring pointedly at Mari.

“It’s fine,” Jackie says, “I’m fine.” Her voice sounds like the squeal of a rusted swing set, and Shauna clearly doesn’t buy it. Her face softens into concern.

“No, you’re not.”

Jackie feels anger kindling within her again. She tries to bite down on it, because getting pissy at Shauna definitely isn’t the way to keep her close, but she fails miserably.

“Yeah, no shit, Shipman,” she snaps. “I’d have to be a complete psycho to be fine right now. I mean- Jesus Christ, are we not even going to talk about it?”

It comes out high pitched, desperate. Jackie sounds insane because she feels insane, totally off the walls. She’s sitting here with Shauna all warm and cozy in a cottage in the middle of fucking nowhere after their plane crashed, and Nat’s hauling a bundle of what used to be Javi Martinez through the woods as they speak, and so many of them have died and the rest of them are starving and it’s winter. It’s winter, and Shauna is pregnant and things are only going to get worse, and Jackie isn’t entirely sure she wants to be alive for that because there’s just no point to it all.

Shauna jerks back, resting a hand on her stomach. Her eyes go all wide with hurt, and Jackie immediately wishes that she could cut off her own tongue. Like, how could she dump that on Shauna? Her best friend, who is the point to it all. Jackie’s only point.

“Of course I’m not okay,” Shauna says, voice dropping into a ragged whisper, ”I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop tasting it.”

Neither can Jackie. But her being able to see Shauna’s shame is a twisted relief. 

At least she’s not alone. At least Shauna’s with her in this, just like she’s been with her in almost everything else.

“I wanted it,” Shauna confesses, “I just- how fucked up is that? So no, we’re not gonna talk about it, because just thinking about it is killing me. It’s too much.”

Jackie reaches for her hands, guilt surging within her. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not your fault, okay?” 

Shauna’s face crumples just slightly, her features collapsing in on each other before righting themselves. But she seems a little lighter afterwards, so Jackie forges ahead.

“We did it together. And, okay, this is a way worse bonding experience than our first hangover, but. It’s not on you, is what I’m trying to say. And you’re the best of all of us, right? Because you’re doing all this for the baby, too.”

Shauna smiles weakly, which Jackie’s going to count as a win. 

“Thanks,” Shauna says, knocking their knees back together. “But I’m-”

She breathes in raggedly, shoulders curling in even further. For a second, Jackie forgets her own gnawing guilt and lingering hurt.  All she wants is to comfort Shauna.

“I’m scared, Jackie. I mean, all of this terrible shit keeps happening and I feel like…it’s all out of control, you know?”

Shauna twists her fingers through the cuffs of her sweatshirt, tugging on a hole absentmindedly.

“Like, I have no idea what’s going to happen next. And what if I’m…”

She looks so uncertain, her right arm pulling away to wrap around her stomach. Jackie realizes with a start that Shauna’s talking about the baby.

It probably shouldn’t be such a shock. Shauna’s been pregnant for months- obviously it’s a big deal for her. And Jackie knows that she’s been terrified about the labor, because duh. Jackie’s scared shitless, too. But this is the first time Jackie’s seen Shauna worry about the baby itself.

It’s sort of weird to think that her expanding belly is growing an actual human, instead of just a ticking time bomb. 

“Shauna, no,” a voice says. 

It isn’t Jackie’s.

Lottie steps forward from behind Jackie, making the hair on her arms stand up. 

“You won’t hurt the baby,” Lottie continues.

Jackie resists the urge to snap at her like some kind of rabid dog. She’s supposed to be comforting Shauna, not Lottie. But that’s not a fight she can pick right now, so she keeps quiet and begrudgingly lets Lottie try to work her magic.

“You’re gonna be a great mom,” Lottie promises, “And you have all of us to help, and it’s gonna be a beautiful thing.”

Which is Jackie’s line, but whatever. Hearing that come from Lottie is weirdly comforting. She just wishes that the quiet hope in Shauna’s eyes was because of something she said.

Of course, Shauna still looks pretty miserable anyway. Lottie must notice it, because she says, “We should do something to welcome him.”

Jackie watches Shauna’s eyebrows pull down, mirroring her own confusion. Him?

“Him?” Shauna asks, suspicious now. Lottie stammers her way through a cover.

“For you. So you know that we’re all here for you. And besides, we should start preparing.”

Well, fair. They’ve got a baby due in two-ish months and absolutely nothing done for it. No diapers, cribs, toys, or…whatever else babies need. Clothes, for sure.

God, Jackie is so not ready for a baby. She hadn’t even thought to throw a shower — her literal one job as the best friend of a pregnant person. Lottie freaking Matthews had to be the one to come up with it. At least, she thinks that’s what this is. It might just be Lottie’s segue into some more cult stuff.

“What, like a baby shower?” Jackie says incredulously.

“Really?” Mari asks. Jackie turns to find the entire room staring at them in excitement. It’s a little unsettling how quickly the mood lifts, but Jackie gets it. This relentlessly depressive atmosphere is seriously getting her down. If the thing that distracts everyone from last night is Shauna’s baby, well, fine. As long as it’s cool with her.

“If that’s okay with you,” Lottie says quickly. Shauna glances at Jackie, who shrugs back. Hopefully Shauna gets that she means, Why not? This whole situation is already fucked up beyond all reason, and not, I don’t care either way.

She seems to get it, because she says, “Uh, sure. If everyone else wants to.”

So it looks like they’re throwing a party.

Chapter 8: they’re speaking to you

Shauna hasn’t seen Jackie in hours.

The other girls have got her holed up in the attic, so that their gifts can be a surprise at the baby shower. Which is nice in theory, but pushing her to the brink of insanity in practice. She’s been left alone, in frigid silence, to record what they did last night in her journal. Slats of sunlight fall on either side of her like the bars of a prison cell; nature’s way of telling Shauna that she needs to be caged after what she did last night. What she enjoyed.

And there’s no Jackie to ground her, hold her close and keep her warm through wisps of breath against her neck. To remind her that she’s not a monster. That what she did was the right thing, because it was for the baby.

The baby, the baby, the baby. It’s all Shauna can think about when she isn’t obsessing over Jackie. They’re starving — how will she feed the baby? They’re freezing — how will she keep the baby warm? She’s so weak — how will she survive the baby?

And Lottie’s genius idea to combat the guilt asphyxiating them all is to throw a fucking baby shower.

At least it’s better than Misty’s bone broth proposal. But as much as Shauna appreciates everyone’s efforts to help her in this, she tenses every time she remembers the odd light in Mari’s eyes or Lottie saying, It’s going to be a beautiful thing.

This tiny creature growing within her feels less like a tumor and more like a life every day. Less like something leeching away her oxygen and more like something she’s desperate to keep breathing. But it’s not their hope or their salvation. It’s hers. More than anything else, the baby is hers. Its life is literally and completely tied to Shauna, down to the DNA. Its breath is her breath, its blood her blood, its bone her bone. For better or for worse, there’s no separating them.

She’s only ever felt that with Jackie before; her own limbs outside of her body, her beating heart exposed to the elements. But Jackie’s always been kept separate, thinking and feeling and acting in ways Shauna never would, radiant in ways Shauna was never allowed to be. 

Shauna’s never had anyone belong solely to her before.

She’s pulled out of her head by the sound of someone climbing up into the attic. Her heart flutters a little at the thought that it might be Jackie, but Taissa’s dark curls pop up through the trapdoor.

If it was anyone else, Shauna would be disappointed. But she genuinely misses Tai. Lately she’s been wrapped up in Jackie, and Taissa’s dealing with her own issues. They’ve chatted, of course, and played plenty of table hockey in the main room, but they haven’t had a real conversation in weeks.

“Hey,” Taissa says, “Can I join you?”

Shauna can feel herself smiling reflexively, even as it’s deadened by the guilt roiling in her gut.

“Sure.”

Tai settles down across from her, mirroring Shauna by folding her legs into criss-cross applesauce on the floor. Shauna scribbles down her last sentence (We’re still hungry), scratches it out until there’s a tear in the page, and then sets her journal aside.

“Are you doing okay?” she asks quietly. Tai’s eyes dart away, to a frayed strand of rope on the floor.

When Shauna was banished to the attic, hours ago now, she climbed the ladder to the sound of Taissa’s desperate pleading.

“I didn’t,” she had hissed to Van, “I couldn’t. Not even if I was- sleepwalking.”

“Okay,” Van answered carefully, “But you were gone all night, until just before they brought him back. You can’t remember anything about where you were? What-”

And then Shauna had knocked on the trapdoor, cutting them off. They’d let her in with strained smiles and then hurried downstairs.

She’s not going to ask about their conversation. She trusts Taissa as much as she loves her, and she doesn’t want to know.

“No,” Tai answers now, breath shaky. Shauna nods, because it’s an obvious answer. None of them are okay. She isn’t sure if they ever will be again.

This is the moment, she knows. This is when they can talk about it, tucked away in the attic where it’s safe to be honest. This is Shauna’s chance to actually, openly discuss what they did last night. Remember it, share the burden of guilt, give it a name. She can tell that Taissa almost wants to talk about it — it’s in the hesitancy of her hands hovering above her knees, the way her eyes flash directly to Shauna’s.

But Shauna can’t. She can’t.

“What do you think of the baby shower thing?”

Taissa breathes out, shaky, and Shauna knows her well enough to extrapolate relief from the way her lower lip trembles. Tai shrugs. 

“It makes sense. I mean, we’ll need stuff when…you know. And I get everyone wanting a distraction.”

Shauna hums in agreement, scooching a little closer to her friend. It’s cold up in the attic. Luckily, Taissa practically radiates warmth.

“So,” Tai says, lighter now, “You and Jackie kissed and made up?”

Shauna’s cheeks warm irrationally at kissed. 

“I think so,” she grins. “I mean, we’ve probably still got some stuff to work through, but things feel better.”

Tai smiles back at her, although she doesn’t seem thrilled.

“That’s really great. But…don’t let yourself get lost in her shadow again, okay?”

Shauna can feel fangs scraping against her gums, ready to snap out and tear into Taissa, but she lets it slide. Tai isn’t wrong — that was one of the most major problems they had before. JackieandShauna always leaving room for Jackie to shine, muscling Shauna into the dark, cramped space behind her. And Shauna is sort of desperate to keep it from happening again. It’s just that she’s more desperate to never miss Jackie again.

“I won’t.” Shauna unfolds her legs to let the blood flow through them, flexing her toes against pins and needles. “I don’t know if that could even happen again, actually. Things are so different now.”

Tai grows somber at that, and Shauna wishes she could take it back. She was talking about herself and Jackie; half a year in the wilderness has molded them both into wildly new shapes. But they’ve all been changed out here.

Shauna reaches over their laps to take Tai’s hand in hers. It’s almost instinctual to comfort her, like a genetic inclination she can’t fully control. A positive side effect of this hellish situation.

Tai squeezes her hand lightly and feigns confidence.

“Not all bad different, though. They said I only needed to stall you for a few minutes. Ready for your party?”

Shauna pulls her hands back to push her swollen weight off the cold wooden floor. This pregnancy has recentered her gravity in a way that keeps leaving her off balance.

“Sure.”

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

So far, the shower is a shocking success. 

Sure, the crib from Tai and Akilah is rickety enough that Shauna sort of wants to burst into tears. And, yeah, Mari’s idea of a baby mobile is sharp-edged and terrifying. And Van’s changing teepee is maybe the stupidest thing Shauna’s ever heard of, and it doesn’t do much but make her think about how often babies piss and shit all over everything. God, how is she supposed to potty train a kid in the wilderness? If it even lives that long.

But it’s all leagues better than nothing, and it’s nice to have everyone but Natalie (who’s out hunting), Travis (who’s sleeping in the back room), and Coach Ben (who’s huddled in a corner of the kitchen, staring blankly at the wall and flinching away from anyone who gets too close), gathered together for something good. 

And it’s all worth it when Jackie presents Shauna with shoddily sewn baby clothes — tiny socks and hats made of torn rags, lopsided onesies stitched together from the rug of the plane, and one little coat lined with foam seat stuffing. Akilah probably could’ve done it better, but this is from Jackie. 

Shauna runs her fingers over the material, clearly the softest Jackie could find, and fails to swallow around the lump in her throat as she realizes that there’s no way Jackie could’ve done all of this in a few hours.

“How long have you been making these?” She asks, blinking back tears. Jackie looks disarmingly shy, in sharp contrast to how confidently she used to present Shauna with Christmas and birthday and ‘just because’ gifts back home. I knew you’d love it, she’d grin, flipping her perfectly curled hair over a Tommy Hillfiger top. 

“A couple weeks,” Jackie says, her hair dirty and frizzy and definitively uncurled, “Do you like them?”

Touching them makes Shauna feel like she’s hurtling through free fall, stomach floating somewhere above her head, hands flailing for something to hold on to. It’s too much. She doesn’t even know if they’ll fit, or if the baby will live long enough to wear them.

“I love them,” Shauna answers honestly. “Thank you, Jax.”

Jackie smiles, hesitantly small but no less radiant than when she was queen of Wiskayok High.

Misty ruins the moment by chirping, “My turn!”

She prances up to the center of their little circle, so that she’s framed by the icy light streaming through the window, and smiles down at Shauna.

“For my gift, I would like to perform a monologue from A Place for Annie.”

Van snorts and fails miserably in her attempt to cover it up as a cough. Everyone claps uncertainly, and Misty inhales. Changes her posture by slumping a little, curling her shoulders forward into a defensive position, tilting her chin up defiantly. Impossibly, bizarrely, she reminds Shauna a little of Natalie.

“I don’t know why I came back,” Misty starts, her voice a little lower and more drawn out than usual, “I shouldn’t have. I guess everything I ever did my whole life I fouled up. Always took the easy way. With guys, drugs.” 

Tai and Van snicker quietly behind Shauna. The other girls rustle in their seats, breathing softly. But Shauna is sort of riveted. Misty should’ve joined the drama club or something; she’s actually good at this. It’s probably a little tactless to imply that Shauna is an addict, but this doesn’t feel personal. It’s just Misty being Misty.

“I wanted to try and do at least one thing right,” she continues. “One thing that I could point to that was good. So I got clean, I came back for her. To try and be some kind of mother to her, for whatever time I have left.”

Misty’s face crumples subtly, like she’s trying to hold herself together. She looks so guilty, so heartbroken, that Shauna could be staring into a mirror as she watches Misty fucking Quigley act her heart out. “Whatever time she has left. Maybe it’s too late.” 

And then Misty looks directly into Shauna’s eyes, and the spell is broken. Because there’s that desperate eagerness, that relentlessly ridiculous hope.

“Maybe it’s not.”

There’s a beat of silence after she finishes, and then Crystal whoops in approval. Shauna brings her hands together and the other girls follow, clapping as Misty beams and gives an awkward curtsy. They congratulate her — rightfully — because even if that was weird it was also impressively heartfelt, which pretty much sums up who Misty is. 

Shauna looks at Tai, who pulls a face that makes her snicker, before turning to Jackie. Jackie’s answering smile is wan, but Shauna doesn’t have time to unpack that because there’s a creaking noise from behind them. 

Everyone whips around to find Travis, swaying slightly on his feet and with skin to match the snow, staring at Shauna. There’s a haunted look about him that makes Shauna pull Jackie’s gifts close to her stomach.

“Travis?” Lottie asks, and his gaze drifts to her. “What do you need?”

The sound of her voice works to snap him out of his trance. He blinks a little and steps towards Shauna, his right arm outstretched. For a second she thinks he’s asking for her hand, but then she sees he’s holding a grime-covered striped shirt.

“It was Javi’s,” Travis says, even though Shauna knows that. Of course she knows that. But his voice is a scrap of a thing, so she doesn’t interrupt.

“You can have it. For the baby.”

Jackie makes a little noise that Shauna can’t bring herself to decipher. Travis’ eyes are clouding over again, like he’s slipping back away.

“You can have all his things.”

“Thanks,” Shauna whispers. 

She knows what should come next. She should say, I’m sorry. She wants to.

But he did it, too. He did it with all the rest of them. Does that make it better or worse?

Travis nods, already halfway gone, and retreats away from her. He doesn’t even bother looking at Lottie before heading to the back of the cabin again.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

So then it’s Lottie’s turn.

The blanket is beautiful; clean and patchwork and hardly faded, hardly worn. It’s maybe the nicest thing Shauna has seen in months.

“So he doesn’t get cold,” Lottie says softly.

For once, Shauna is completely willing to let the he slide.

“Thank you, Lottie. I love it.”

Except-

“Is this supposed to be funny or something?”

And then everyone is fighting over the dead guy’s symbol on the quilt, and whether or not Lottie is crazy, and nobody’s even asking Shauna what she wants, and this party that was nice two seconds ago has spun out into exactly what they’ve all been fighting about for months.

And Shauna’s just so tired of it. There’s this awful pressure between her eyes. She’s about to get up and leave when something warm slips into her palm. 

Shauna looks down and watches Jackie lace her fingers through Shauna’s. It’s absurd how quickly she feels better. Probably a little unhealthy. But at the moment, Shauna doesn’t care in the least.

Jackie’s thumb comes up to brush the little divot above Shauna’s lips, and it’s only then that Shauna realizes that she has a nosebleed. She watches as a drop of blood falls from Jackie’s thumb to the blanket. Red stains faded white, matching the teardrops embroidered into the cloth.

“Shauna,” Jackie says, panicked, “Hey-”

And then she hears the wings.

It’s faint at first. The flapping is almost a humming, nature’s mimicry of the electric buzz that Shauna was never without for the first seventeen years of her life. 

Suddenly there’s a thud on the roof. It’s a wet sound, with just the faintest of crunches, and Shauna’s never wanted anything less than to find out what it was.

Everyone stills just in time to hear the second thud. The third. And then there are so many, rapid and unceasing, that she’s half convinced the world is finally ending. The other girls cry out. Shauna uses their linked hands to pull Jackie closer, gripping her arm, and tries to slow her rushing blood by telling herself that it’s just hail.

And then, as quickly as it started, the noise cuts out.

“What the fuck was that?” Taissa asks, panting. The other girls are terror-struck, exchanging petrified glances. Shauna squeezes Jackie’s fingers and slips her hands away, pushing herself up out of the chair to stride outside.

Her hand stills on the door, but she pulls herself together and flings it open fast enough that nobody notices. The others are emboldened as she steps out into the afternoon light, and follow her out onto the porch to take in the horror show around them

It’s birds. Bent and twisted, their dark blood mingling with darker feathers in the snow. They’ve fallen in a ring around the cabin, fatally still.

Jackie, hovering behind Shauna, gasps slightly. Shauna looks over to find another drop of blood on Jackie’s hand, then up to see a broken wing hanging over the side of the roof.

She feels so sick. This isn’t a miracle, and she knows it. Something is wrong with these birds — or was wrong with them. Shauna’s not one to believe in prophecy, but this feels like blatant foreshadowing. An omen of death.

“Holy crap,” Mari breathes, “Did these guys just suicide bomb our roof?”

Van steps down off the porch and crouches down to examine a bird, grim.

“They were probably just confused,” Misty rambles in a high-pitched voice, “We know there’s a lot of iron in the ground, so maybe it messed with the birds’ navigation.”

“They were diseased,” Taissa says, a hard look in her eyes. Van eyes her warily.

“Like the bear was diseased?” Gen asks, antagonistic.

“We are not eating these,” Tai shoots back. Lottie steps to the front of the group, coming face to face with Shauna.

“This is for the baby,” she says, and then turns to the others. The dim rays of the setting sun catch in her dark hair.

“We should gather its blessings.”

Before anyone can inquire about what exactly that means, a voice from across the clearing says, “What the fuck?” 

They look up to find Natalie, horrified, standing just outside of the ring of birds. 

And her game bag is full.

Chapter 9: give it a hundred years

Watching Shauna butcher is, Jackie realizes with an uncomfortable thrill, a lot like watching her play soccer.

They’re in the meat shed, Jackie perched on a hard wooden stool from the cabin. She’s distracting herself from the winter air biting at the exposed skin of her face and hands by watching Shauna work.

She’s got that same focused look that she used to settle into while sprinting across carefully manicured soccer fields, physical evidence that she’s in the zone and nothing matters to her but the ball under her feet. The carcass under her hands, now. Her eyebrows pull together; her lips press closed; her skin is beaded with a barely-there sheen of sweat. She’s completely physical in a way that Jackie sort of envies. 

(it must be jealousy, this heart-hunger gnawing at her insides. it can’t be a different kind of want)

When Shauna cuts raw, frozen meat away from an animal’s sawed-off limbs, she leans all her weight against the knife to sever tendons and skin and whatever other gory bits Jackie doesn’t want to think about. Jackie has to keep pulling her eyes away from the muscles in Shauna’s arms, which she thought had been starved away but are apparently alive and- okay, maybe not well, but definitely still there.

Shauna’s strong enough to cut through bone. Jackie knew that on a surface level, obviously, but actually getting to see it is a little ridiculous. And, listen, the flesh and guts and stink of it all is pretty much the opposite of a turn on. But Shauna? Flushed from exertion and casually flexing her ludicrous strength?

Totally worth it. 

Shauna just knows what she’s doing. When to whack and hack at the meat, when to be cautious and slow and steady. When to use the massive knife and when to pull out the short, slim one.

Shauna’s confident and concentrated, tearing every last bit of meat away from the bear’s bones and storing those for if things get really desperate. Jackie feels goosebumps erupt across her body even as she pulls the fur closer around herself; she imagines Shauna’s sure hands pulling at the makeshift blanket keeping Jackie warm, working it with her knife, stroking it to check for scraps of skin.

“Okay,” Shauna says, tossing a last scrap of beaver onto the tray she’ll carry back inside to the others. “I’m done.”

Jackie hops off the school and grabs the tray before Shauna can. Her best friend’s belly is getting so massive it makes Jackie’s skin itch to let her carry absolutely anything. She’d almost volunteered to try butchering again, but she hasn’t changed that much. Jackie may be capable of maintaining her will to live, but she’s totally unable to carve into something with, like, actual eyeballs.

“Finally,” Jackie says, “It’s so cold out here the polar bears are jealous.”

Shauna quirks an eyebrow good naturedly at the tray in Jackie’s hands.

“You know I’m not an invalid, right? That thing weighs five pounds at most. I can carry it back.”

“Not sure Dr. Quigley would agree.”

Shauna’s answering eye roll is much less good natured. Misty’s been on Shauna’s back more than ever since the baby shower. And because the snow isn’t melting for another few months at least, Shauna can’t really avoid her constant instructions to avoid stress and get some rest and oh, let us handle it. Jackie hasn’t seen Shauna actually cook the meat she prepared in at least nine days.

It’s driving Shauna up the walls, but Jackie doesn’t mind. Shauna’s due in, what, like two and a half months? If there’s anything they can do to keep her healthy, they’ve got to try. 

“Misty will live,” Shauna deadpans, “C’mon, let me have it.”

“No freaking way, Shipman,” Jackie says, ignoring the ache already tugging at her muscles, and Shauna lets it drop in a sigh of annoyance.

They hurry back to the cabin, walking close to block each other from the wind. The cloudy gray light is already fading, just a few hours after it started to light up the cabin. Akilah’s still keeping track of the days, and by her estimate it’s late December now. Almost a month from when they— from the baby shower. Holiday season back home. Jackie shifts through vague memories of last Christmas: WHS’ mediocre ‘nondenominational decorations’, the team’s Secret Santa gift exchange (which she totally rigged so that she and Shauna would get each other), suffering through her parents’ stuffy party, trading presents in the Shipmans’ tiny living room, Shauna grinning through her annual ‘technically you should be getting me eight presents’ joke even though they were literally sitting next to her family’s Christmas tree and that wasn’t even how Hanukkah worked.

Jackie doesn’t think of back there too often these days. The memories are getting fuzzy around the edges, and she can’t really bring herself to mind anymore. Christmas, which seemed so all-important before, isn’t something she really even wants. Remembering it is like pressing her thumb down on a bruise that’s already half faded. 

None of that matters now; cars and clothes, report cards and soccer games, the perfect boyfriend and the perfect lip gloss and the perfect best friend. Some days she thinks that the girl who cared about any of it died in the snow three months ago.

Right now she’s just grateful that their plate is so full, even with Shauna’s careful rationing. Food is still scarce, especially since the last of the bear meat ran out, and Natalie is starting to look pretty terrible. But in the three-ish weeks since Javi died, Shauna’s butchered two beavers, five squirrels, a fox, and a massive brown owl. They were all pretty adorable. Jackie would have been tragically sad about it if they weren’t so delicious.

They all decided not to eat the birds, in the end. Nat, Taissa, and Shauna won the dramatic blow-up fight over them — mostly because Natalie managed to snag the beavers just before they offed themselves via crash landing. But they’ve been okay without them. Hungry, of course, so much that Jackie can feel it in her teeth, but not actively dying. Or at least not any more than they usually are.

It’s completely fucked up and so awful that Jackie refuses to acknowledge it most days, but Javi’s death was a twisted miracle for the surviving Yellowjackets. Ever since Natalie stopped looking for him, she’s been bringing home actual food. Which, yeah, duh. She’s moving faster and quieter, and covering more ground. But by unspoken agreement, nobody’s mentioned it.

Jackie dreams about that night, though. The rush. She always wakes up guilty and hungry and nauseous, and then pretends for the rest of the day that nothing happened.

But when she really manages to ignore the whole thing, she’s better. Still starving, obviously, because she always gives half of her already tiny slivers of meat and bits of pine mash and bear bone powder soup to Shauna. But she and Shauna spend their free time folding up fortune tellers and playing rock-paper-scissors and hangman and, on really good days, paper soccer. Every day their laughter feels a little more natural. 

It’s like- okay. Shauna doesn’t like Jackie, but she does want to spend time with her. And even if wants to hang out with Taissa more, Tai splits her days between Shauna and Akilah and Van. So Jackie gets hours and hours to pretend that she and Shauna are really best friends again. That Shauna could actually love her, the way Jackie used to believe was as reliable as the constant pattern of the sun. Her center of gravity, keeping her from spinning off into space.

Predictably, Misty takes the platter out of Jackie’s hands as soon as they walk into the cabin. She eyes Shauna nervously, like she wants to tell her to sit down again but is trying to avoid getting her head bitten off. Shauna notices but doesn’t do much more than roll her eyes and move to her seat at the window. Jackie trails behind her, dragging another chair over and settling with her legs curled under Shauna’s knees. 

The other girls are watching them. No, not them. Shauna. It’s a look Jackie recognizes; respect, expectation, desperation. It’s been this way since the baby shower. Lottie’s managed to convince them all — minus Shauna, Nat, and Tai, obviously — that everything Nat has caught lately is the wilderness looking out for the baby.

Jackie’s even more uncomfortable with them looking at Shauna that way than she was when their hungry eyes were trained on her, way back at the beginning of summer. Shauna’s got a way smaller chance of letting them down, but Jackie’s never really had to share her before. Except for Jeff, she guesses, but she didn’t know about that one until it was too late anyway.

Nobody’s staring at Jackie much these days. She helps out around the cabin enough that nobody’s actively pissed at her anymore. Their eyes mostly just skip past her now, unless she’s been separated from Shauna for more than a few minutes.

Shauna nudges her feet, clad in two layers of socks, under Jackie’s thigh. She jumps a little and then forces herself to relax.

Jackie has sprawled across a bikini-clad Shauna’s lap, like, a million times. Feeling Shauna’s thumb absentmindedly stroke the spot just above her knee, both of them bundled in not nearly enough layers, should be nothing. It is nothing. Jackie’s skin hasn’t been flayed back to expose her nerves; she can’t hear her heartbeat thrumming in her ears; the warmth radiating from every part of her body pressed against Shauna is warm with platonic, friendly love. Definitely not the heat of desire.

It’s nothing. Shauna looks out the window, waiting for the light to fade completely. Jackie looks at Shauna, waiting for her to notice. It’s nothing.

“Here,” Lottie says. Jackie makes an embarrassing gasping noise as she realizes that Lottie’s been standing over them. “To warm you up.”

She presses a steaming drink into Shauna’s hands. Shauna slaps on a thin-lipped smile, so forced it’s painful.

“Thanks,” she says, and takes a small sip before handing it to Jackie. Shauna herself has been pretty unreceptive to the whole the wilderness loves the baby schtick Lottie’s got going on. Jackie’s not complaining about it. Especially not as she warms her hands against Shauna’s cup.

Lottie nods sweetly and then drifts away. Everyone else leans back, easing into the night by inhaling the smell of meat cooking. The cabin is full; the only person missing is Coach Ben, who’s taken to wandering through the icy woods like a masochistic weirdo, but he’ll be back before full dark. Even Travis has wandered out from the back room to talk quietly with Natalie in the kitchen.

(They’re missing the pilots, and those flight attendants. Rachel, Coach Martinez. Laura Lee. Javi, Javi, Javi.)

But all the others are here, together. It’s totally claustrophobic — Jackie hasn’t been farther than the meat shed since she went on those missions to the plane with Nat, weeks ago. It’s been the same walls, the same girls, the same conversations, the same cloud of grief and guilt that nobody ever acknowledges. The need to get the fuck out and do something buzzes in her head, like, constantly, getting louder every day. But at times like this, the fire crackling and everyone else chatting softly, Shauna tucked close against her, it’s sort of nice. Homey. Like being a team again.

“Alright,” Shauna grins, pulling out her journal, “I can either make up another Mad Lib or we can play Tic Tac Toe. Again.”

They always tie at Tic Tac Toe. Shauna has at least three pages of her journal lined with tiny grids, pairs of Xs and Os blocking each other from victory. 

“As much as I’d love to absolutely crush you right now, I think I’m tic tac toed out.”

Jackie would suggest twenty questions, but the only things she wants to ask Shauna are, why are you acting like everything’s normal and, why are you still sitting so close to me. She’s pretty sure that their current arrangement is totally dependent on not digging deeper than the surface; not reminding Shauna that she hates Jackie, actually, and not reminding herself that the foundation of her pathetic will to live is a girl who can’t possibly want her back. As a friend.

They end up playing M.A.S.H. again at Shauna’s suggestion, even though it’s pretty depressing to contemplate the future when you’re stranded in the Canadian wilderness with no hope of rescue. Jackie’s going to live in an apartment in Manhattan with Shauna, be a stay at home mom, and have no money at all. Yeah, not fucking likely.

But her heart pangs at the fantasy of it, the one she used to dream of in her fluffy four-poster bed. Her and Shauna in a cramped little apartment, bickering over whose turn it was to do the dishes like roommates in a sitcom, best friends poised to take on some big city. Shauna starting out her writing career, Jackie doing something with her life. Wiskayok, New Jersey smaller than dust in their rearview mirror, her parents nothing more than an annoying occasional phone call.

Jackie’s given up on ever having that future, and on the girl who had a hope of reaching it, and she nearly died in the process. But she’s over it. She’s making herself be over it, because Shauna’s stomach is bigger than the balloons they used to shove under their shirts and she needs her best friend.

Sure, it hurts to think about. But, hey, at least they’re not still in fucking Jersey.

“Dinner’s ready!” Melissa announces triumphantly from the fire.

Everyone crowds around the fireplace, taking their places on the couch or in chairs or on the floor. Melissa serves Gen first, like she always does, and then moves down the line. Everyone eyes her small helpings like hawks, making sure they’re even, eating as soon as there’s food in their hands. Shauna gets the biggest chunk of meat in her stew. Nobody says a thing.

They all have different habits. Mari eats fast, desperately shoveling the food into her mouth, only to gaze miserably at her bowl once it’s empty. Crystal nibbles on her serving like a mouse, outlasting all of the others. Tai wraps a bit of her meat in a rag, which she’ll slip to Shauna later.

They all watch Shauna, to make sure that she’s eating. They never stop watching Shauna.

Jackie slides half of her food onto Shauna’s plate without a word.

“Jax-,” Shauna starts, but Jackie cuts her off by shaking her head.

“It’s nothing,” she lies, jamming her back teeth together against the vicious pain scraping at her stomach. “I’m not that hungry.”

Shauna pulls her lips into a thin smile, squeezing Jackie’s hand in thanks. Jackie can see that she’s guilty, and worried, but she eats the food and that’s all that matters.

Soon the room fills with the sounds of scraping and slurping as everyone tries to suck up the last bits of nourishment. They finish too soon. Everyone is still starving — they sneak glances at Natalie, who stares vacantly at her bowl.

“Alright,” Van claps her hands together after the beat of silence. Her smile is strained, her eyes not even a quarter as bright as they used to be. But it’s storytime, and she’s still good at putting on a show. She has to be, Jackie thinks, and knows how it feels.

“So it’s the seventies, right? And there are these four girls, and they’re twelve, and they’re best friends for life…”

Jackie gathers her courage and leans against Shauna, who shifts her body to support Jackie’s weight. Jackie feels something in herself loosen reflexively, muscle memory forcing her body to relax the closer she gets to Shauna.

Nothing is fucking happening, is the thing. No news is good news and boring is better than terrifying, but it’s still driving Jackie crazy. Nothing about this is different from last night, or last week, or the week before that. Except for the size of the strange little creature growing inside of Jackie’s best friend. That tiny time bomb, ticking faster all the time.

Seven months down. Two to go.

God, Jackie hopes they make it that long.

Chapter 10: get out the flags

Shauna is in Jackie’s room.

They’re sitting opposite each other on the bed, Jackie’s feet in Shauna’s lap for a pedicure. Jackie’s hair, tumbling over her shoulders except for where it’s pulled back into two butterfly clips, shines under the warm glow of her overhead light. She hums along to the radio – Parallel Lines, a classic sleepover compromise because it’s one of the few overlaps between their music tastes.

“I know a girl from a lonely street,” Jackie sings, wiggling her toes, “Cold as ice cream but still as sweet.”

“Stop it,” Shauna laughs, “You’re messing me up.”

Jackie stills dutifully, and Shauna ignores how her heart flutters. She frowns down at her handiwork; she could’ve sworn that the polish was blue, but Jackie’s nails are a violent orange color. She’s about to check the bottle when Jackie swings her legs away, flopping onto her stomach and kicking them through the air.

“I’m bored,” she pouts.

Well, God forbid Jackie Taylor experience anything but satisfaction. Shauna rolls her eyes, the uptick of her lips more fond than she feels.

“Wanna play Truth or Dare?”

Another sleepover staple, one Jackie is always eager to play. Sometimes Shauna thinks it’s because she likes having an excuse to puppet her around. To rifle around inside of her mind, pull out whatever shiny secrets Shauna might have managed to keep from her.

“Sure,” she says.

Jackie’s answering smile is bright enough that Shauna feels her annoyance melting already. She ignores the permafrost in the back of her mind.

“You go first,” Jackie says.

“Fine,” Shauna sighs, “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

Jackie almost never chooses dare, unless they’re in front of an audience or she’s in one of her I’m so spunky moods. So Shauna’s expecting it, but they’ve played this so many times it takes her a moment to think up a question.

“Okay, uh. Who’s the hottest guy in our grade?” 

It’s a soft ball, but there’s probably some sort of universal law mandating that it must be asked at least once a game. Jackie scrunches her nose at the unoriginality of it, picking at her spotless pink-and-white striped comforter.

“Randy Walsh,” she deadpans, and then giggles at Shauna’s disgust. “I’m kidding! I swear I’m kidding. Cody Paterson, probably.”

Shauna snorts.

“I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to say Jeff.”

Jackie’s eye roll is so blatant it’s probably visible from outer space. Shauna refuses to acknowledge the flash of triumph flaring in her chest. It’s not like Jackie’s saying she doesn’t like Jeff. Cody Paterson is just objectively more attractive.

“Please. I’m dating him, not blind,” Jackie says, pulling herself up again and resting her head on her knees.

“Uh huh,” Shauna grins, waiting.

Jackie’s clearly excited to ask her a question, but telling truths and accepting dares is Shauna’s least favorite part of this game.

She likes being the one to ask. Secretly, she even likes that Jackie usually picks truth. Shauna’s sort of obsessed with knowing what Jackie is thinking – with proving that her assumptions about her are right; because of course they are, of course Shauna knows exactly how her best friend ticks. Sometimes it’s like she wants to be inside of Jackie, to know just how she sees the world. Or to have Jackie inside of her, where she never needs to put on a show.

Jackie doesn’t feel the same about her. Jackie is so confident she knows everything about Shauna that she’s never even thought to get to know her.

“Alright, your turn. Truth? Or dare.”

Jackie smirks and wriggles her shoulders in an attempt to convince Shauna to pick dare. It’s cute enough to be almost effective, but Shauna really doesn’t feel like raiding the Taylors’ wine cellar or prank calling Ms. Steele from Precalc.  

“Truth.”

“Lame,” Jackie huffs, but she’s clearly amused, “Okay, let me think…Oh! Would it have been me?”

She’s still smiling that same teenage smile, her cheeks pink and full, her legs pulled up into her arms. Jackie is normal, playful, completely sure of herself. Shauna’s best friend since kindergarten, grown up to be so beautiful that it hurts to look at her.

Shauna’s stomach drops. A chill blows in from nowhere, making her shiver.

“What?”

“If I died in the snow,” Jackie tilts her head like, duh. Her smile isn’t dropping. It seriously fucking should. “Would you have done it to me?”

No, Shauna thinks. No. 

But she dreams about it, doesn’t she? Sinking her fingers into warmth and wet, moans of satisfied satiation, miles of skin all to herself, Jackie’s head tilted back to let her bite deep.

“We weren’t this hungry then,” Shauna scoffs. It comes out shaky. Her stomach is suddenly swollen with knives, and her bones ache like she’s ancient, and the cold is sharp through the cracks of her skin. She doesn’t know what to do with all the pain, in this pretty pink room where she spent so much of her girlhood. She doesn’t know what to do.

Jackie pouts, good-natured. Girlish. 

“Well, you’re this hungry now.”

Something is wrong. The stereo is tripping over itself, fritzing out. Debbie Harry’s voice loops through the static like an old record player, again and again. Run and hide, Sunday girl.

“I have to fix the music,” Shauna says.

She doesn’t want to play any more. But the room is blurring, dripping away like raindrops on a windowpane. Pink and white mingle and melt, leaving Jackie as the only solid thing.

“Come on, Shauna,” Jackie whines, an edge coming into her voice.

Shauna blinks and her skin is deathly pale, her cheeks hollowed out. Blinks again and Jackie’s hair is wild, unkempt. Gone are the pajamas and pigtails – her eyelids are frozen shut, little icicles forming in the mottled purple of their corners. When she wrenches open her jaw, frost falls from her cracked lips.

Shauna makes a breathless noise of horror, clawing at what used to be the comforter. It slips through her fingers in puffs of white. 

 “You have to tell the truth,” Jackie says, and her arm shoots out to grab Shauna’s wrist.

Shauna can feel their bones grinding against each other as she cries out. Jackie’s hand is so cold it burns. The dry ice feeling creeps up Shauna’s arm, turning her skin the same ghostly pale as Jackie’s, so that Shauna can’t tell where she ends and she begins.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, and for a moment Shauna can’t do anything but cry. But then Jackie creaks her face into a smile, bits of hardened skin flaking off, and says, “What did you do with my toes, huh?”

Shauna’s sob hiccups as she says, “I buried them, you know that, you- Ow, Jackie, you’re hurting me, please-”

Jackie’s small sigh is like wind rattling through the trees. She leans forward, blurred through Shauna’s tears.

“Truth, Shauna. You promised.”

She keeps tilting forward, her decaying face just a breath away from Shauna’s. This close, Shauna can see the faint traces of color where her blood vessels burst. She can feel the ice inching towards her heart, still spreading up from where her wrist aches between Jackie’s fingers.

“Don’t you want me?” Jackie asks, heartbroken, before tilting forward to brush her frosted lips against Shauna’s. 

Shauna erupts in pain, her heart stopping, her joints locking, her eyes sealing. She can’t move, she can’t pull back, doesn’t she want Jackie, doesn’t she deserve this, doesn’t—

“Shauna!”

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Shauna gasps awake into the gray light of morning. 

“Shauna!” Jackie whispers, shaking her shoulder gently.

Jackie, eyes open wide and clear, skin the faintest of tans. Jackie, alive.

God, what a horrible dream.

“What?” Shauna groans, pushing herself up and rubbing at her swollen eyelids. She got the worst sleep of her life, her back is already killing her, and she desperately needs to pee. As per fucking usual.

By Akilah’s math, she’s about eight months pregnant right now. Long story short: it sucks ass. Especially since Natalie hasn’t caught anything in three weeks. The female deer she shot has kept them from starving, but things are getting almost unbearably tense.

“Nat and Lottie are heading out,” Jackie says, her face tight.

Right. Natalie’s challenge, which Mari accepted on Lottie’s behalf. To decide once and for all whether realism or bullshit is more conducive to their survival.

The whole cabin gathers to see them off, Natalie with her permanently red hands and Lottie with her thick fur coat. The victor should already be obvious: Nat is the hunter. She’s been doing this for months now, while Lottie sat in the cabin and convinced everyone to meditate. But Lottie always seems to have some sort of trick up her sleeve, like the universe itself twists to toss luck into her lap. 

Shauna glances at Tai as they head for the door and finds her own nerves reflected in Tai’s flexing hands. Natalie’s gun is slung over her shoulder with ease and familiarity, but Lottie grips Shauna’s knife with her chin up. 

Lottie can’t win. It would honestly be better if neither of them brought home any food at all. This competition is a final weight on swaying scales – it’ll tip the balance of the team towards either Lottie’s camp or logic’s. Shauna doesn’t even want to think about how Mari and the others will spin out if Natalie doesn’t bring food home fast.

It’s a lot to place on either of their shoulders, but they seem pretty determined to handle it. Shauna hopes to God that Lottie can’t.

Jackie brings Nat a little bit of freeze-dried deer meat wrapped in grimy cloth, which Natalie accepts with a grim smile. 

“Good luck,” Jackie says, casting a nervous look at Lottie.

Natalie nods her thanks and steps out the door, but the quick exchange is enough to pull bile up onto Shauna’s tongue.

Nat and Jackie had never really gotten along, even when they did. They were too different, Shauna used to think, or maybe too alike. They had that same desperation to be wanted, and the same determination to win; to prove themselves as more than just high school. They both cared a ridiculous amount about their team. But Jackie was pretty and popular and perfect, and Nat was a trailer trash burnout. The fact that they dealt with all that in completely opposite ways, in Wiskayok and in the wilderness, they were pretty much destined to get on each others’ nerves.

Still, Shauna knows that Jackie has always sort of admired Natalie. And they’ve reformed a weird friendship ever since they went salvaging the plane. When Jackie isn’t with Shauna, she usually drifts towards Nat. They work well together in this really baffling way.

It’s– fine. Shauna is fine with it. It’s good for Jackie to have other friends. 

Shauna scooches a little closer to Tai, who elbows her into a half smile as Lottie leaves the cabin. She looks back over to find Jackie staring at them. Good.

Tai ends up leaving with Van, too, because they’ve been going for inexplicably long walks lately. Travis melts away into the back room, Misty and Crystal are huddled together in the kitchen, and Coach Ben wasn’t even here when they woke up. The Mari and the JV girls seem pretty wrapped up in their activity of the day – stuffing plane seat covers into the cracks in the walls, because the cabin is relentlessly freezing – even though Shauna can tell that everyone is just waiting for Lottie and Nat to get back. 

Shauna has absolutely nothing to do, again, so she pulls out her journal and starts writing about the contest. She isn’t entirely sure why she feels the need to write everything down; maybe it’s just to stave off the boredom. Maybe it’s because her head is so fucking impossibly loud, and she needs to purge at least some of the words. Or maybe because it makes everything a little less real — stuff Shauna is writing about, not what she’s living through. 

If she can find a new word for hunger, maybe the agony in her stomach will become something manageably definable. If she can look at the lines of graphite bent into the shapes of anger and fear, maybe they’ll become something she can stare down and rise above. 

It hasn’t worked yet, but Shauna is nothing if not stubborn.

Jackie sits at her feet, back against the uncomfortable edge of the couch, working on some sort of floppy cloth hat. Maybe something else for the baby.

They haven’t actually talked about it. The baby. Jackie’s been presenting Shauna with little sewn clothes for weeks now, but she can never think of any response other than thank you.

It’s not like Shauna wants to talk about it — the closer she gets to Misty’s rough approximation of a due date, the less she wants to even consider the baby that’s set to rupture her internal organs, tear open her actual vagina, and almost certainly kill them both in the process

But sometimes a little thing will happen — she’ll feel a particularly strong kick after a silence that lasts a little too long, or a flutter of movement just after Jackie starts speaking — and she’ll find herself genuinely wanting to share it with someone.

No, not someone. Jackie.  

Jackie, who said, We’re gonna get through this together. Except Shauna never asked exactly what together meant; and this probably isn’t a together sort of thing, anyway. 

“Done,” Jackie announces happily.

Shauna looks up from her journal to find her holding up a misshapen blob of airplane carpeting with Frankenstein stitches around the side, shaking out her right hand.

“Is that a hat?” Shauna asks, and Jackie laughs and swats at her leg.

“It’s a scarf, asshole.”

Shauna finds herself grinning back, settling into their old teasing routine. As much as she and Jackie aren’t talking about, it’s such a relief to have this back. There was a moment when she thought it was gone forever, and then weeks where she was terrified it would be.

But Jackie seems to have forgiven her, for necessity’s sake if nothing else, and Shauna is genuinely grateful for it. She doesn’t think she could survive out here without her best friend. She thinks she would actually lose her mind.

Which is ten types of fucked up, and sometimes Shauna wishes she had an identity that wasn’t completely wrapped up in Jackie Taylor. But this is how it is, and she’s got no choice but to live with it. 

“Why is it a circle?” Shauna asks, and Jackie tilts her head like, duh.

“So you can pull it over your face. It’s warmer that way.”

“And who is this circle scarf for?”

Jackie’s eyes flit away, and for a minute Shauna’s scared that she’s being an asshole and Jackie was making it for herself. Or, infinitely worse, that she’s making it for Natalie.

Wait, no, not infinitely worse. Those are both good options. Shauna would be completely fine with either of them. Unless it really is for Natalie.

“Uh, you, if you want it,” Jackie says, her flippancy as false as it always is these days.

It worries Shauna relentlessly. Seeing her the way she used to be last night, in Shauna’s dream, served as a reminder of how whittled away she seems. That shield of easy, confident carelessness is gone. The Jackie that sits in front of Shauna now, examining the scarf like she’s embarrassed of it, is all insecurity. 

But the scarf is for Shauna, and Jackie is genuinely nervous that she won’t like it. The warmth that floods through her body should be a little sickening, when Jackie is so fragile, but Shauna can’t bring herself to spoil the moment.

“Of course I want it,” Shauna smiles, and Jackie’s relief is painfully obvious as she hands it over.

Shauna’s just about to suggest that they join the JV girls, already crafting a counterargument for when Jackie says, You should rest, when a creak of the floorboards announces Travis’ arrival into the main room. 

He’s been hunting again, the past few weeks. Still avoiding Jackie, which Shauna is incredibly grateful for. He’s still avoiding all of them, actually, with the exception of Nat and Lottie. Or maybe he isn’t and never has been. Maybe they’re avoiding him. Maybe Nat and Lottie are the only ones who seek him out. 

Jackie tenses a little when he comes into the room, just like she always does. Shauna ignores the sharp stab in her chest and says, “Travis?”

“It’s been too long,” Travis says, frowning, as Shauna glances to the window and sees that the sky outside is growing dark. “We should go look for them.”

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

They don’t find Nat or Lottie. 

They all split up into two groups. Shauna, Jackie, Tai, Van, and Travis look for Natalie; Misty, Mari, Crystal, Akilah, Gen, and Melissa comb the woods for Lottie. Shauna loses strength quickly, the trek through the trees made complicated by the fact that she’s bigger than a blue whale and desperately needs to take a piss every other second.

Jackie and Tai form a mismatched trio and force Shauna to head back to the cabin once the sun actually sets. She sits by the window and stews, thinking about how Jackie is voluntarily going on a miserable, snowy hike to find Natalie, thinking about how far Jackie has come (no thanks to Shauna) and how much she’s lost (almost entirely thanks to Shauna). She worries about Nat and Lottie and Jackie and Tai and everyone else out in the cold while she sits by the fire, and she brings Coach Ben some water when he stumbles into the cabin and collapses in the back room without asking where everyone is, and she uses the pee bucket three fucking times, and she feels so useless that she almost loses her mind.

Shauna glares daggers at her stomach as if she has anyone to blame but herself. And Jeff, but it’s not like she can raise her baby to assassinate him from all the way out here.

The way things are going, she probably won’t even have a baby to raise. Or be alive long enough to do it. If they lose Natalie…

She’s just about to head back out into the night and look for someone, pregnancy be damned, when someone thumps up the stairs to the cabin. The door flings open and it’s Natalie, face flushed, a long white hare clutched triumphantly in her right hand. 

Her brow furrows when she finds Shauna alone, eyes flitting around like she’s expecting the others to pop out from somewhere. Shauna almost hurls at the relief of seeing her with fresh meat, even if she can count every one of the hare’s ribs.

“Where is everyone?” Nat scowls, fear evident in the shake of her voice.

“Looking for you,” Shauna says, pushing herself up awkwardly, “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Natalie replies shortly.

There’s clearly a story behind it – she’s breathless, and dried blood cakes one of her cheeks, but Shauna lets it slide. 

“Lottie’s not back yet?” 

Shauna shakes her head, not bothering to hide her concern, and grabs a rag and a bucket from the floor. She instructs Natalie to sit down and takes the hare, too, before heading outside.

Natalie is still sitting on the couch when Shauna gets back. She heats up the bucket of snow by the fire without a word, letting Nat cast anxious glances out the window. 

“Here,” Shauna says, and dunks the rag in the bucket. She knows better than to try and wipe Nat’s face, and opts to hand over the dripping rag. 

The silence isn’t awkward, despite the fact that Shauna and Natalie haven’t been alone in…God, she doesn’t even know how long. There’s this unspoken understanding between them. In the moment, definitely; both of them are leaning just slightly towards the door, desperate to go look for the others. Both of them are firmly on the same side of the competition that Nat probably just won.

But that understanding also lies in the blood staining the hare’s white fur. The shotgun resting against the couch, the knife in Shauna’s pocket. The weight of the others’ hungry hands, gnawing teeth, hollow stomachs. They were never close back home, beyond the ties of the team and occasional music recommendations. They aren’t close now, at least not in any way Shauna could verbalize. But it’s easy to wait with Nat. 

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Shauna hears them before she sees them. Girls, breaking brittle twigs as they walk towards the cabin, speaking a little quieter than they would in the daytime. Natalie straightens up almost imperceptibly, helps Shauna up from the seat by the window, and walks out with her to the porch.

Jackie emerges from the trees first, flanked by the Natalie group. She actually grins when she sees Nat, a smile that widens when she locks eyes with Shauna. Nat sags slightly when she spots Travis.

“Where the fuck were you?” Tai cries, glaring incredulously at Nat even as the tension in her body lessens.

“Getting dinner,” Natalie calls back, “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“You caught something?” Van says, and Nat smirks through her exhaustion.

It’s a pale shadow of her old victory grin, but close enough to give Shauna an echo of feeling.

Tai seems to forgive Nat immediately upon hearing that she just won them the contest. Travis nods at Nat, the ghost of a smile on his face for the first time since- Javi.

The moment of triumph is short lived, though, because just as the little group reaches the cabin a voice cuts through the forest.

“Help!”

They all whip around to find a grim-faced Misty helping Mari lug Lottie’s limp body into the clearing. The others trail after them, terrified. Lottie's head lolls and her legs barely move as they trip forwards, supported on both sides and still stumbling. She looks boneless, flopping around like a demented doll.

But a long white hare dangles from her left hand.

Chapter 11: trust you with my secrets

Notes:

Okay this chapter is relatively short but they're about to get a lot longer, so...enjoy it while it lasts? Also I love hearing all of your thoughts about this story!! Kudos and comments are sooo incredibly appreciated

It’s too hot inside the cabin – too excited. Misty tears off Lottie’s clothes, and everyone else crowds around her. There are tear tracks frosting Akilah’s cheeks; Melissa is white-faced, clutching Gen’s hand. Frantic energy pulses through the room as Van, inexplicably the calmest of them all, pries the hare out of Lottie’s fist.

“She got food,” Mari rambles, frightened, “She did it, but she’s– We found her–”

“Yeah, we can fucking see that, Mari,” Nat snaps, coming forward to relieve Mari of Lottie’s limp weight. There is true horror in her eyes.

“She’s suffering from exposure,” Misty says in an uncharacteristically frazzled tone. “We need to warm her up a little – Not that close to the fire, back up, Natalie – I need someone to boil some snow, you remember with Jackie…”

Lottie moans a little, the corners of her fissured lips pulling down. Shauna looks at her blotchy white-blue skin and blanches, fumbling for Jackie. Jackie, at her side, gazes vacantly at Lottie’s violent shivering. 

They drop Lottie on the floor with a disquieting thud. Nat tosses more kindling into the fire. Misty glares up at them all in disbelief. 

“I said boil some snow! Go!” 

Still, everyone hovers a moment longer. Mari has collapsed onto the couch in what appears to be shock; everyone else is exhausted from trekking through the woods.

But when Shauna says, “Akilah? Crystal?,” they jump to attention and nod, grabbing a bucket each and leaving the warmth of the cabin. Jackie shifts a little closer at the sound of her voice, close enough for Shauna to see the tears shining in her eyes.

Shauna wanted Lottie to stop influencing everyone with her crazy. She wanted Lottie to stop staring at her from across the room, and making vague prophecies for the he that is apparently incubating within her, and hovering relentlessly. In some small way, Shauna wanted this. And she knows that it isn’t her fault, just like she knows that the plane crash wasn’t the result of quickies in Jeff Sadecki’s car. But the guilt rolls in regardless.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Lottie turns out mostly fine. She’s awake enough to scream by the time they submerge her in the warm water of the tub, and to cut herself off by whimpering in pain. Natalie kicks everyone else out, promising to make sure that Lottie doesn’t drown.

“I remember what it felt like,” Jackie tells Shauna in a hollow whisper once everyone finally settles onto their sleeping pallets. “Getting warm again. I thought I was on fire. I felt so bad for leaving Van.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Shauna murmurs, and means it more than she did last fall. 

“I thought that’s why you wouldn’t let me die,” Jackie yawns.

Shauna pulls herself up a little, her heart sinking. 

“What do you mean?”

Jackie is out of it enough to answer honestly.

“I thought it was revenge, I guess. It was stupid.”

Shauna’s breath hitches, looking down at Jackie. She’s beautiful in the dim light, even after months of hunger. Her hair is thin, her cheeks gaunt, her skin sagging slightly. But she’s achingly pretty all the same. How could she ever think that Shauna wanted to hurt her?

“I didn’t let you die because I love you.”

Jackie’s eyes fly to Shuana’s, suddenly alert, before cutting away. 

“You don’t have to say that,” she sighs. 

She looks just- torn apart. Shauna is almost speechless. She thought that they were past this. Aren’t they past this?

“I mean, yeah, but it’s true. You know that, right?”

Jackie makes a bitter, breathy little laughing noise. It sticks in Shauna’s chest like a knife. 

“Sure, Shauna. I’m tired, okay? Can we…”

Shauna wants to say, No, let’s talk about this, but she nods mechanically. She doesn’t even know what she’s supposed to think. They’ve been so good lately; trading glances and fighting back giggles, playing games, sleeping side by side, laughing almost like they used to. But the pained exhaustion in Jackie’s voice doesn’t just happen – Shauna would know. 

Sure, Shauna. As if Jackie’s eyes don’t color every one of Shauna’s daydreams. As if Shauna doesn’t know exactly what Jackie meant about the visceral agony of feeling on fire, just because she once stood in the lake and watched Jackie lounge on the shore. As if she isn’t here, in every single sense of the word, because of Jackie.

She doesn’t sleep. She lies on the hard floor, stewing, watching Jackie pretend to snore. 

It’s not the worst way to spend a night.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Shauna and Jackie don’t talk for a week and a half.

They also don’t not talk, but when Jackie isn’t avoiding Shauna with maddening and inexplicable success, they’re never alone. Shauna gets desperate enough to wake Jackie up twice when everyone else is asleep, under the pretense of more false contractions (which she actually has been having, so it’s not too terrible of a lie), and trying to subtly force the conversation. But Jackie brushes it off expertly every time. 

She’s been attending Lottie’s group meetings. At first Shauna thought that it was just to get away from her, but Jackie and Lottie have actually been talking lately. She thinks it’s a sort of apology for sending Lottie out into the cold – one that Lottie is accepting with surprising grace.

It’s driving Shauna completely insane. She actually considers the possibility that Jackie is just screwing with her as vengeance, gaining emotional recompense for how Shauna treated her. But Jackie isn’t consciously manipulative, and Shauna knows her well enough to recognize when she’s truly hurting. 

Of course, she isn’t just obsessing over Jackie. She has meat to butcher – the two hares and, miraculously, a porcupine. Nat and Lottie seem to have come to a sort of truce in the wake of their almost-fatal hunt, but Tai is still railing against Lottie’s authority through snide comments and stubborn refusal to join in on the woo-woo bullshit. Shauna, who’s kept relatively quiet despite the fact that she woke up to Lottie actually whispering to her stomach the other day, is growing genuinely concerned about the heated glares Mari keeps shooting Tai’s way. She’s also growing genuinely concerned about the heavy bags under Tai’s eyes, and the frayed skin around Van’s wrist.

But, out of everything she needs to worry over, Jackie is the baseline anxiety. 

(The baby is the baseline anxiety, but Shauna absolutely cannot think about it)

Finally, Shauna has had enough. On a day when it’s not-freezing enough for Lottie to have an outdoor pagan prayer session, she grips Jackie’s sleeve and physically prevents her from leaving the cabin.

“What are you doing?” Jackie frowns as Shauna drags her into the kitchen. 

Tai is upstairs in the attic, Natalie and Travis are out hunting, and Coach Ben has fucked off into the woods again – this is the only chance at privacy Shauna will have for an indeterminately long amount of time. She’s got to force Jackie to talk.

“What is up with you?”

“What are you talking about?”

Shauna pulls her hands into fists to keep herself from wringing Jackie’s neck. 

“Don’t do that. Just- talk to me. Tell me what it is.”

Jackie averts her eyes, glancing down at Shauna’s stomach. Shauna waits with barely restrained impatience, before Jackie starts:

“I seriously don’t know what you’re–”

“That is such crap!” Shauna explodes, “You’ve been acting weird for two fucking weeks–”

“Oh, I’m acting weird?! You sound crazy right now, you know that?”

The word echoes in Shauna’s ears. Crazy. Crazy. Jackie thinks she’s crazy.

“Okay. Fine,” she says, well aware of the ice crackling in her voice, and whirls around to march away.

There’s a slight tug on the sleeve of her sweatshirt, and she freezes.

“Wait,” Jackie says, “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m sorry”

It is physically impossible for Shauna to release her anger right now. But she turns back to Jackie anyway. Jackie’s shoulders are curled in on themselves, her head drooping just slightly. Shauna finds her rage cooling in spite of herself; Jackie looks too pathetic to be the object of such intense hurt.

“You said you loved me,” Jackie admits, small and nonsensical. 

Shauna frowns, waiting for her to get to the point.

“I do love you.”

Jackie’s eyes slip closed like Shauna’s just walloped her over the head.

“No, you- You don’t have to say that.”

Shauna steps closer. Jackie’s not making sense, but at least she’s talking. This is progress.

“I’m not just saying it. Why would you think that?”

And there’s that laugh again; a dead, decomposing thing. 

“I said it’s fine, Shauna. It’s okay. You don’t need to act like you like me, or–”

And, oh. There it is. Jackie thinks – not without evidence, to be fair to her – that Shauna doesn’t like her or love her. That Shauna isn’t constantly trying to find new ways to make her laugh, or innocuous excuses to touch her. That Shauna is, in a cruel twist of irony, using Jackie to feel safe and sheltered and secure. 

Shauna would laugh in her face, but she knows exactly what that feels like. She intimately understands the wounded twist to Jackie’s lips, the angry insecurity roiling under the surface of her.

“You’re wrong,” Shauna says quietly. 

Jackie starts to shake her head, but Shauna catches it between her hands. Jackie’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t move away.

“I’m not lying, Jax. I don’t just need you, I want you. All the time, okay? I always want you with me.”

Jackie is crying. Shauna made Jackie cry, and she’s so dizzy with it that she rubs a thumb over Jackie’s cheek. They’re so close together she can feel the warmth of Jackie's body. This is not innocuous touching – not hair between fingers, shoulders bumping together. This is like something out of her dreams, hazy and heady, Jackie’s ragged breath on Shauna’s cheek, wisps of Shauna’s hair brushing Jackie’s high cheekbone. Jackie’s eyes flick down again, but not to Shauna’s stomach.

I want you. All the time. Shauna wonders if she understands how deep those words run. She’s suddenly unsure if she wants Jackie to believe her.

Shauna tilts her head down, bringing them a breath closer together. It could be unnoticeable. It could. But she’s pretty sure Jackie is noticing it. Jackie, with her face angled up just slightly, because she’s just slightly shorter than Shauna.

Shauna is dreaming, she realizes. She must be, because Jackie’s lips are parting and her eyes are fluttering closed-

BANG, goes the cabin door, and they jump apart like they’ve been electrocuted. Jackie stares at her with wide, guilty eyes, a deer in headlights, as Misty bursts into the room.

Misty is uncharacteristically unkempt, her pink sweatshirt crusted with snow, her glasses foggy enough to obscure half of her face.

“Have you seen Crystal?”

Notes:

Sorry, Kristen! Unfortunately, that's what happens when you make friends with Misty.

Chapter 12: 'til you're bleeding

Jackie blames it on the starvation.

Yeah, okay, they’re all acting a little weird. Akilah suggested eating the shriveled rat corpse she found God knows where, Tai and Mari are a little too quick to anger, Lottie is drawing into herself more than ever. Nobody’s seen Crystal or Coach Ben in a terrifying amount of days. And, alright, Jackie almost kissed Shauna two weeks ago.

But they’re hungry! They’re desperate and scared and not thinking straight, which is why Shauna pulled Jackie close and then just kept moving closer. And it’s definitely why Jackie has been plagued by visions of that moment every time she closes her eyes, and practically jumps out of her skin every time their hands brush. No other reason.

When she manages to sleep, she dreams of big brown eyes and Shauna’s full lips forming the words, I love you. I want you all the time; of hair brushing her cheeks and just the slightest flash of pearly teeth.

But the dream never stops there. In Jackie’s subconscious, the scene plays out over and over again. Shauna’s chest pressed against hers, those warm hands pushing into her hair and trailing down her body, their legs tangling, their lips caught together. Shauna’s soft moaning, Shauna’s delicate collarbone under Jackie’s fingers, Shauna’s tongue on Jackie’s neck. Heat and quick breaths and a hand between her thighs–

But then Jackie wakes up, miserable and guilty and fucking filthy, and has to roll over and look Shauna in the eyes and act like she isn’t some sort of horrible pervert who has wet dreams about her best friend. It’s impossibly worse than it was back home, when these dreams were relatively far and few between and Jackie at least had the time to shower and collect herself in the morning. Now she’s with Shauna constantly, because they’re best friends and Shauna needs her right now, and there’s never any time to box it all up and lock it away in the back of her mind. Now it’s so much harder to convince herself that Shauna’s lingering glances are nothing, to tear her eyes away from Shauna’s hands as she scribbles in her journal.

It’s not her fault, okay? Shauna looked at her like– like that, and she’s been reeling ever since. Even though she knows it was nothing. Even though it was nothing.

God, Jackie’s making everything so much harder than it has to be. Objectively, she shouldn’t be feeling this so intensely. Shauna is massively pregnant, consistently red-faced from the cold, her hair hasn’t seen a brush other than Jackie’s fingers in months, and she smells like dirt and BO (not that Jackie minds, really, she’s always liked it when Shauna just smells like Shauna). Everyone is silently terrified that she’s going to go into labor literally any minute now. But here Jackie is, desperately missing the days when she could sneak off into the woods and get herself off, because she loses it completely every time Shauna so much as breathes. 

It sucks. It sucks so bad. And Jackie isn’t even sure if Shauna meant it when she said that she loved Jackie. She thinks Shauna believes it, but does she? After everything?

It doesn’t matter, she’s decided. Shauna needs her and she wants her. That’s so much more than Jackie thought she’d ever get again. She just needs to pull her shit together and keep these feelings to herself.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

She’s basking in the torturous relief of a rare Shauna-less hour when it starts to snow.

Shauna and Tai are out looking for Crystal and Coach; they’ve all been taking turns combing the woods for them, although it’s been long enough now that they’re considering dropping the group efforts and letting Nat search as she hunts. Everyone protested letting Shauna go, Jackie especially, but she’s been getting super fed up with their hovering and she snapped until they agreed to let her go. For a short search, and with Tai at her side the whole time. Jackie has offered to come with, but Shauna smiled and waved her off. Apparently she wanted time with Tai, alone.

Jackie’s cool with it. Van’s cool with it, so she definitely doesn’t have a reason not to be. She sits by the fire with Natalie and prattles on about experimenting for a natural bug spray in the summer, keeping a not at all nervous eye on the window. The sky is a bleached-out gray, like it has been for the past week, so Jackie isn’t worried about snow.

It falls anyway.

Despite her frantic window watching, Lottie notices it first. She’s sitting on the floor, little flyaways escaping from her dark hair, her face bright in the light from the window. She lifts her head almost dreamily, strange dots of shadow floating down her face.

“It’s snowing,” she says.

Nobody panics. It snows all the time. Jackie and Van exchange a tense look, but don’t get up. Tai and Shauna have been gone a while by now. They should be back any minute.

But the minutes pass, and the white flurries fall harder and faster together, and no one emerges from the tree line. By ten minutes, Jackie feels like pacing. By fifteen, she’s nearly tearing her hair out.

She’s standing by the window, arms folded tight around herself, when the light begins to fade.

“I’m going to look for them,” she announces, and moves for the lantern.

Nat blocks her as the others watch in silence.

“Get out of my way,” Jackie says, willing the old Captain’s steel into her voice. Get your knees up. Let me the hell out of here.

“You can’t go out there,” Misty says, her voice slightly higher than normal the way it has been since Crystal vanished. 

“You won’t be able to find them, you’ll just–”

“I said,” Jackie cuts her off, “I’m going to look for them.”

Nat stands in front of the lantern, stubborn to a fault. Her eyes are sad and sorry. Jackie wants to gouge out her own at the sight of them.

“It’s too risky.”

Jackie wants to scream. Four months ago they would’ve let her die in the snow, accident or no. Now they won’t let her look for Shauna – pregnant, kind, necessary Shauna. She looks to Van, the only one here who might be able to understand. She knows that this won’t accomplish anything. The idea of Jackie being able to save the day is laughable even to herself. But if she stays in the cabin and something happens to Shauna out in the snow, she’s signing her own death warrant anyway. She might as well fucking try.

“She went out for me,” Jackie says, trying to remind them.

She doesn’t matter, and Shauna does, and every single person in this cabin knows it. But still, Nat won’t budge. Jackie steps forward, ready to shove her to the side, when Akilah gasps.

“It’s them!” She points out the window, relief easy to see in her smile.

Jackie pushes past her and out the door, throwing herself into the snow. The cold bites at her skin and gnaws on her bones, its stinging teeth frighteningly familiar. But she pushes forwards anyway, for Shauna. Shauna, Shauna, Shauna.

Shauna is bent over, being dragged by a terrified Tai, when she reaches them. They’re both panting through one of Lottie’s breathing patterns, which Jackie doesn’t even have the time to be surprised about. She presses close to Shauna and loops an arm around her waist, helping Tai shoulder her weight.

“Jackie?” Shauna says, lost and scared like a little kid. 

“I’m here, I’m here. What’s happening?”

She’s nearly blind with terror, listening to Shauna’s breathing break into a screaming groan. She knows. She knows what’s happening, and the knowledge is too much for her. 

She can’t– 

Shauna–

“It’s happening,” Tai huffs, horrified. 

“She’s going into labor.”

They fight their way back to the cabin, a hobbling six-footed monster. But there’s no relief in it, not as the light fades from the forest.

It’s going to be a very long night.

Chapter 13: mother, i can never come home again

Nobody here has any idea what the fuck they’re doing.

Jackie feels like she’s trapped on one of those gravity rides at the carnivals back home. She’s spinning and spinning, her heartbeats impossibly heavy, her breathing tight. The only solid thing in the world is Shauna’s hand wrapped around hers, clamping down hard enough to crush the bones of Jackie’s fingers during every contraction.

They set Shauna, red-faced and sweating despite the freezing air, up on a bed that they drag into the main room. Tai shoves pillows and blankets under her, pausing to stroke her hair or frantically reassure her. Everyone in the cabin crowds around her, looking almost as helpless as Jackie feels. Shauna just keeps groaning, raw and animalistic like Jackie has never heard before, and she doesn’t think that labor is supposed to hurt this much at the beginning, but she doesn’t even know because she fucking skipped health class on the day they learned about labor and delivery, and this is the worst karma ever.

Shauna is in so much pain, and she’s so afraid, and Jackie is too paralyzed to do anything but hold her hand. She can’t believe she was ever angry with Shauna, can’t believe she’s spent the last two weeks obsessing over some stupid kiss that didn’t even happen. She’s the most selfish person in the world, and she’s completely useless, and Shauna’s looking at her with these enormous eyes and Jackie doesn’t know what to do.

She settles for staying at Shauna’s right while Tai settles in at her left. She squeezes Shauna’s hand as Misty pulls down her pants. The other girls look away awkwardly; Jackie’s feverishly grateful for the cover of the blanket.

“Misty,” Tai says urgently from her place at Shauna’s left, “What do we do?”

Misty looks back at her wildly, and Jackie fights back the urge to vomit. 

“Oh, my God,” Shauna speaks for the first time since she got back to the cabin, her voice rushed and clipped with pain, her teeth grinding together.

“Please, someone just get it out of me!”

And then Shauna is screaming, and the air is knocked out of Jackie’s lungs as her voice cracks through it. 

“Misty!” Tai cries.

“Right,” Misty says, looking around at everyone else like one of them will switch places with her.

“Right, um, I think…ice chips?”

“Ice chips?” Jackie hears herself asking.

Jesus Christ. Ice chips. Misty is going to be no help at all.

Jackie feels the room sway at the thought. Shauna’s going to have to do this alone. None of them can help her; there’s no hospital to drive her to, or taxi cab for her to deliver in. No doctors to pump blood into her if she loses too much of it, or to make sure the baby is coming out the right way. This is it. Ice chips are all they’ve got, and they don’t even have any.

“Are you okay?” Shauna pants up at her. 

Jackie wishes she could die then and there. Shauna is asking if she’s okay. God, Jackie is no help at all.

She tries to reassure Shauna, but the words won’t come. She manages to close her gaping mouth and squeezes Shauna’s hand again. Shauna’s clearly worried, but then another contraction comes and she’s crying out again, the veins in her neck straining against her glistening skin. 

“I’ll go get some snow,” Nat says, her face white as a ghost. 

Jackie’s only distantly aware of her absence. She can’t tear her eyes away from Shauna.

The other girls chatter amongst themselves, hushed and tense. Jackie unsticks a strand of dark hair from Shauna’s cheek like she’s in a dream. Shauna keeps screaming and panting, panting and screaming. 

If Shauna dies, there will be absolutely nothing left in the world. If Shauna dies, so does Jackie.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Misty isn’t doing fucking anything. 

It feels like it’s been an eternity by the time Shauna says, “Why the fuck is this taking so long?”

They’re all still bunched around her, listening to her cries. Misty, kneeling at Shauna’s feet, keeps staring up at her with blank eyes. She’s chosen the worst possible time to suddenly stop rambling about creepy health facts, and Jackie’s not on the verge of losing it because she’s already lost it completely. She might actually have died all those months ago, because this is hell.

“Should we, like, boil water?” Mari says, rapidly and uncertainly, “That’s a thing people do, right?”

Before Jackie can ask what the hell they’d even do with it, Akilah is nodding.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s a good idea. We need to keep things clean.”

She’s just babbling, pretending like she knows what she’s talking about. It’s unconvincing and basically useless, but the others are actually listening to her. They’re all desperate for something to do, some way to help.

Shauna screams again, her mouth open so that Jackie can see every one of her teeth. Misty closes her eyes, her lips screwing up like she’s about to burst into tears.

Jackie has resigned herself to the helplessness. Shauna makes this exhausted crying sound and Jackie presses her lips against her feverish forehead. She’s so alive, warmth radiating from her body, her eyes deep and bright and full of terror. Her skin is flushed and drenched in sweat, like she just won fourteen championship games in a row. Jackie can’t even fathom the idea of a dead Shauna. Just thinking about it is absurd enough to make her gag.

“Uh, these are contractions, right?” Nat says, referring to Shauna’s scream-pant pattern. She sounds exhausted in her fear. “Should we be timing them or something?”

“Yeah,” Gen says, “That one was just over a minute. Is- is that long or short? Are we timing the distance between, uh…”

She turns to Misty, whose eyes are still shut tight. Tai gives a huff of anger.

“Misty!” Gen snaps. “Should I be timing the in-between, or no?”

Jackie doesn’t understand why everyone is acting like anything they do matters. Either Shauna will live, or she won’t.

God, Jackie really needs her to live.

“Uh, I– I don’t know, I just…”

Akilah steps forward, her hip jostling Misty’s shoulders. She’s definitely nervous, but the determination on her face is absurdly comforting.

“Okay,” Akilah says, “I think when they're this regular and intense, she’s labor labor and the baby’s actually coming.”

No shit. But hearing it out loud is a comfort – the baby’s actually coming. This is going to end, one way or another. Hopefully not another.

“Okay, so, it should be over soon?” Tai asks, heartbreakingly hopeful. 

Shauna whines, her head angled all the way back, and Jackie has to physically resist the urge to cover her ears. Akilah doesn’t look optimistic.

“Maybe, but my sister was in labor for a day and a half.”

Shauna’s head shoots up at that, her horror painfully obvious. Jackie’s too out of her mind to be even a little hurt by how she looks to Taissa.

“No,” She gasps, her voice cracking, “No, I can’t take this for a day and a half, Tai, I can’t, I can’t.”

Tai cuts her off, tilting her head close with utter confidence. Shauna’s eyes latch onto hers.

“Yes, you can, Shauna. You can fucking do anything.”

Jackie is shocked by the desperate command in Tai’s voice. She knew that they’ve grown close out here, but it’s clear to see now that Tai loves Shauna, and believes in her strength. Maybe almost as much as Jackie does. Taissa needs Shauna to survive this, too. 

“Of course you can do it,” Akilah soothes her. “And we’re right here to help. Right, Misty?”

Misty turns her head silently at the thinly veiled order in Akilah’s voice.

“What do you need from me?” Akilah continues, quietly angry, and Misty stays silent long enough to make Shauna whimper with alarm. 

And then a hand falls on Jackie's shoulder, making her jump about a foot out of her skin. Shauna looks past her, rage flashing in her expression for such a short second Jackie is almost convinced that it was never there. 

“Hands,” Lottie says confidently. 

Jackie has a sudden, unwantedly vivid flashback to their last team dinner in Wiskayok. Laura Lee had said the same thing, her smile widening beatifically, as she began a group prayer. Lottie had whispered something that made Nat snort, and Jackie avoided eye contact with Shauna in order to keep herself from doing the same, and Van and Tai took a second too long to link fingers. 

Now everyone grips each others’ hands eagerly. Tai hesitates for a second before taking Van’s, but she doesn’t say anything as Lottie speaks and everyone’s eyes slip closed. Jackie keeps hers open, to keep looking at Shauna.

“Maybe, uh, we can…”

Lottie’s voice falters, and Jackie realizes that she’s just as scared as everyone else. It feels like a nail in Shauna’s coffin.

“We can share our hopes with each other?”

Jackie feels twisted, manic laughter building in her chest. They are so screwed. But before she has the chance to prove how certifiably insane she is, Mari’s voice shaky cuts through the cabin.

“Wilderness, I hope Shauna doesn’t die!”

Jackie makes a choking noise, her heart stalling for a second before pumping so strong it’s painful.

“What the fuck, why would you say die?” 

Tai is furious, her teeth bared through the hard d. But she looks back at Shauna almost immediately to reassure her as she panics.

“Die?” Shauna chokes out, her eyes wild, and Tai takes her face in her hands.

“You’re not gonna die,” she promises, “No, no, you’re not gonna die, you’re not gonna die.”

But the promise holds no weight, because they don’t know that. There’s no way of knowing that. Jackie’s knees give out from where she’s crouching next to Shauna, and she wraps an arm tight around her shoulders. Shauna leans into her immediately, like she’s been waiting for Jackie to hold her all along. 

But then Lottie is pushing down past Jackie to crowd in front of Shauna. She touches Shauna’s forehead in an attempt to comfort her, but Shauna pulls away with a wince of pain. 

“Shauna, everything’s gonna be okay,” she croons, and it's so absurdly comforting that tears slip down Jackie’s cheeks. 

“It’s gonna be okay. Just let your pain open you to this moment–”

Jackie doesn’t even know that she’s pushing Lottie away until Lottie blinks up at her from the floor. She’s never been one for violence; she used to cry at war movies, and she couldn’t even stomach the idea of hunting. But now, with her chest heaving as she stands in front of Shauna, she feels like she could hurt something. Like she could kill something, if it meant protecting her best friend.

But then the moment passes, and Lottie is cradling the elbow that she fell down on, and Jackie just feels sick again.

“Jackie?” Shauna breathes, and Jackie whirls around again. 

Shauna’s face is crumpled as she reaches for her. Jackie can’t understand why Shauna wants her close – why, even after she’s been dead silent and wildly unhelpful since this started, Shauna is acting like Jackie brings her comfort. But she’s not about to deny her best friend whatever she can give.

“It’s okay,” Jackie breaks her silence. 

Her voice is gritty and strained, but Shauna seems to relax a little as she moves closer again.

She moves Shauna’s head into the space between her neck and her shoulder as Shauna yells without words. Because, yeah, nothing she does will help Shauna survive. But the look Shauna had when they locked eyes—

Jackie needs to comfort her. She needs to at least try. 

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Things are getting bad. 

A few hours ago, Jackie wouldn’t have believed that anything could be worse than listening to Shauna scream. But hearing her exhausted, breaking groans definitely counts as worse. And Shauna’s skin – which has always been so cream and roses, so pretty – is a sickly yellowish gray. And Misty is, like, muttering to herself, and barking at Shauna to Keep breathing! as if that isn’t the one piece of advice they’ve all got down. 

Jackie still isn’t doing much, but she’s at least able to talk. She babbles helplessly about the only thing keeping her sane right now: Shauna. Shauna as a kid, scraping her knees on the blacktop and falling from the monkey bars at the playground. Shauna as a teenager, pushing herself through drills even though it was ninety-seven degrees out and she had cramps and everyone felt like puking to death. Shauna in the woods, looking out for everyone and making sure they were fed, staying hopeful and determined and kind when Jackie sure as hell couldn’t. Shauna at every age, strong and capable and fearless and loving.

She randomly remembers the dumb bonding activity she’d made them all do, at that party the night before they got on the plane. Shauna had asked Jackie to say something nice about her, and Jackie had – per the fucking usual – made it all about herself. She’s not making that mistake again, not now. She isn’t even sure how much Shauna can hear through the pain, but Jackie needs her to know how incredible she is. How much Jackie sees her, and loves her, and…

There’s blood on Misty’s fingers. Jackie sees it before she feels Shauna’s back arch, before she hears Shauna’s wail tear against the roof of the cabin. Akilah gasps, barely audible over the screaming, and Mari looks like she’s about to be sick.

“It’s okay!” Akilah says, panicked, but her eyes are wide like a character in a horror movie.

Shauna’s cries taper out into hitched moaning. Jackie doesn’t look down the bed, she can’t, she needs to keep her eyes on Shauna. Shauna, whose yellowed skin is bleaching out into a horrifying, pallid gray. 

“I can’t do this,” Misty whispers from the foot of the bed, “I can’t do this, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I–”

She stands up and fucking leaves, escaping into the kitchen. The others call to her, terrified and furious, but it’s no good. Jackie starts after her, but Shauna grips her hand harder.

“No,” She pants, “Jackie, please, stay–”
And then she’s crying out again, her legs writhing in pain, and Tai launches up to storm after Misty. Akilah takes Misty’s place, looking down at Shauna with confused alarm. 

“You’re gonna be fine, Shauna,” Natalie says, “Women have been having babies for millions of years, you’ve got this. And Akilah has got this.”

But she’s crying. Natalie is crying. 

“Where’s Misty?” Shauna cries.

“Misty?” Akilah says, lost, “She’s just– she’s just grabbing more rags, okay? Everything is fine, okay? Shauna, I’ve got this.”

Jackie would be impressed with Akilah’s sudden, frightened confidence if she weren’t so completely terrified. Lottie brings over some rags, which means there’s more blood down there than just the bit on Misty’s fingers. Which means Shauna is losing blood. 

“Jackie,” Shauna gasps, gripping Jackie’s hand with sudden strength, “If I- and the baby- You have to take care of it.”

“What?” Jackie asks, not letting herself understand because she can’t understand, because what Shauna’s asking of her is completely fucking impossible, because if she lets herself think about what Shauna means she’ll spin out completely, she’ll throw the door open and let the cold take them all.

“You have to- ungh!” 

Shauna lets out a guttural yell through gritted teeth, fingers pulling out of Jackie’s and tearing at the sheets. And then it passes and she’s sobbing, spent with pain, slumped against the sheets and pressing her temple against Jackie’s forehead.

“Promise me,” she begs, “Please, please, promise-”

And then her eyes are fluttering closed and Jackie is more scared than she’s ever been before; more scared than when she was in a literal plane crash, because the sound of twisting metal was so much easier to hear than the weak noises tearing out of Shauna’s lips, and watching that flight attendant’s brain spew through the cracks in her skull was fucking beautiful compared to watching Shauna’s coloring fade into this unnatural gray.

“I promise,” Jackie swears, and feels something deep inside of her shift around it, “But I don’t fucking need to, because you’re gonna be fine. You- you’re fine, Shauna, you’re gonna be okay and you’re gonna take care of the baby and you’re gonna be the best mom ever because you’re already the best friend ever, and you’re- Shauna-”

“Jackie,” Lottie’s voice interrupts, “It wants you.”

Jackie whirls around, mind blank, and sees that the others have set up some sort of fucked-up altar by the fireplace. That creepy deer skull has blood on it, and little carvings, and hair. It’s twisted and freakish, and it takes Jackie a second to even accept what she’s seeing.

She turns back to Lottie and sees the flash of a blade. The knife in her palms.

Jackie takes it with one shaking hand. Shauna makes a breathless noise of protest, but Jackie lets go of her with a mechanic, “It’s alright.”

She blinks and she’s in front of the altar, holding the knife over her palm. She hasn’t been going to Lottie’s meetings because she actually believes in them. But right now…

Jackie needs something to do.

She cuts fast and deep, her blood spurting down onto the bone. But it’s not enough. She doesn’t know how she knows it, but she does. It’s like– like instinct, like knowing that she needs to get the ball when she’s on the field. It’s not enough, it’s not enough, it’s not enough–

Jackie whips around to the corner of the cabin and sinks to her knees, pulling out the makeup kit. The stupid, pointless, normal makeup kit. She hauls it over to the fireplace and holds it above the flames.

But she can’t let go. It’s shallow and frivolous and selfish, but she can’t. Because, yeah, it was exhausting. The hair and the makeup and the perfectly timed smiles, the smart but not too smart, athletic but not, like, a jock, the skin prep and the cute clothes and the beach body. It was all so fucking heavy, and tiring, and time-consuming. Consuming, full stop.

But it was also safe. Maybe not sane, but definitely normal. Accepted and encouraged by the rest of the world. Basic, girlish instinct.

And now she’s throwing her last tie to the real world into the fire as, what, a sacrifice to some nonexistent wilderness god?

Except– that wasn’t the real world. All of that shit was pointless, and she knows that now. Look where it got her. The only thing that matters, the only thing that has ever mattered, is Shauna.

Jackie throws the makeup down into the flames, ignoring how the other girls yell and cough at the chemical fumes. She grabs a fistful of hair and saws at it with the knife, tossing that in, too, because she might as well do the fucking thing. Because this is all she has to give, and it needs to be enough. Shauna and the baby need to live.

She’s not even sure what she’s praying to as she thinks it; as she pleads, Please, please, let them live. But for just a second, she feels heard. The hair on the back of her neck lifts delicately.

It’s not a comfort.

And then Misty is charging back into the room, and Shauna’s breath is all frail and raspy, and Jackie needs to be at her side.

She rushes back to Shauna, taking her hand as Misty convinces Akilah that she’s fine now.

“Please don’t let my baby die,” Shauna begs.

“Okay,” Misty says, “Okay, I know it hurts, and I know this is hard, but you need to focus and you need to push. You are so close to being on the other side. And then you get to meet your baby.”

It sounds impossible, but Shauna nods rapidly and falls back into the breathing pattern. Somehow, Misty fucking Quigley has given her the strength she needs.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

“I can’t,” Shauna is mumbling, her head lolling against the pillow, her hair drenched like she’s been swimming, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…”

Tai has shoved a little wooden thing into her hand and joined in with the others’ chorus of, We hear the Wilderness and it hears us. Natalie is crying, quietly begging Shauna to breathe.

Jackie is– nothing. Not even a person. Just the rattle of Shauna’s breathing, the fingers grasping Shauna’s weak hands, the shoulder that Shauna’s head rests on. But she manages to force together enough voice to speak through her tears.

“You can,” she says to Shauna, “You can, Shauna, you just need to push. You’re so close, you can do this, I love you–”

And then Misty is screaming, Push! Push! And Shauna is pulling herself up again, straining her whole body, and Misty is saying, I’m palming the head!, and Shauna is screaming and screaming, the most agonizing thing Jackie has ever head, and Misty is saying, Good, good, good, good!, and it’s hot and terrifying and it smells like death and Jackie can’t take another second of this, she can’t, she’ll die, she—

And then a baby cries.

Chapter 14: pleased to meet you

Notes:

This chapter contains a really complicated bit of characterization, and it has some heavy implications for the real world - so I'll talk about it after the end!

The crying is like nothing Jackie’s ever heard.

It’s terrifyingly faint – aren’t babies supposed to be loud? what’s wrong what’s wrong what’s – but there’s something so catching about it. Like there’s this hook right in Jackie’s heart, squishing and squelching and pulling her closer. For a second, the world is just as uncomplicated as that sound. She can’t see or feel or think. It’s just that the baby is crying, and she wants to comfort it.

Misty’s voice cuts through the cabin: “It’s a boy! Oh, Shauna, he’s a boy.”

Her words echo off of the wooden walls, ringing in Jackie’s ears. It’s a boy. A boy, a boy, a boy. Nonsensically, she thinks: what are we going to do with a boy?

And then there are other noises. Nat and Tai are saying something urgent, and Misty is giggling like the beautiful maniac she is, and the others are all laughing with her out of pure shock. Pure wonder. Jackie hears herself joining them, breathy and disbelieving. But.

Shauna. Shauna isn’t making a sound.

Jackie’s halfway to looking back when Misty says, “Oh my God.”

“Misty?” Tai panics from Shauna’s left, “What’s happening? Why– Why isn’t she–”

“Oh my God,” Misty repeats, and then shoves something warm and wet and wriggling into Jackie’s hands.

There’s a heartstopping moment where she almost drops it. But she adjusts quickly, supporting the head like she did for her cousin’s baby in sophomore year, and then the world comes into focus. And then, and then. There’s a baby in her arms.

A real, living baby, half-wrapped in Lottie’s blanket. He’s the tiniest thing Jackie has ever seen, covered in blood and slimy with this yellowish-white gunk that smears against her skin. His face is puffy and uneven like he’s been beaten up, his reddish skin blotched with bruises and his eyelids swollen almost entirely closed. He’s making these pitifully hitched little noises, like his lungs are too small to gather any more air for crying. A creepy, pulsing, alien-looking cord of wet white and blue muscle runs out from under the blanket to the bed. And, impossibly, his eyes are the exact same brown as Shauna’s.

Jackie feels this click within her, deeper than blood and more solid than bone. She hasn’t felt it since Shauna took her hand on the kindergarten playground, all those lifetimes ago, but her body remembers. She looks at this baby and just knows. 

It’s probably sort of certifiable to be so immediately attached to the love child of your best friend and your (technically still) boyfriend. But everything about this – Shauna freaking Shipman having a baby in the middle of the woods at eighteen, surrounded by the remnants of Wiskayok High’s girls varsity soccer team – is completely, batshit insane. And Jackie can’t seem to mind, as she adjusts herself around the featherlight weight in her arms. He’s just so warm. Plus, this kid is all Shauna; and it’s been proven pretty impossible for Jackie to not love Shauna.

“Oh,” she blinks down at him, stuck dumb, “Hi.”

The baby stills for a moment at the sound of her voice, his face un-scrunching slightly, and Jackie is officially a goner.

But then she turns around to show this wild little miracle to Shauna, and the world snaps back into horrifying focus.

The swarm of people around her, marveling at the baby, almost blocks her view — but not enough to keep her from gasping so hard it hits like a punch to the ribs. Between Lottie and Mari’s shoulders, Jackie can see Shauna slumped against the pillows, waxy and corpse-like, eyes closed. Tai is squeezing her hand, frantically tapping her cheek; Natalie is begging her to wake up; she isn’t moving. Why isn’t she moving? 

And then Jackie’s eyes travel down to Misty, and oh, God, there’s a mass of bloody flesh on the bed. It’s purplish-red, veiny, oozing dark liquid. And there’s so much blood. All over Shauna’s legs, Misty’s hands, Misty’s face. It’s completely soaked though the rags, through the fucking mattress, it’s so much, it’s too much—

“What the fuck is that?” Gen blurts out, and Misty waves her off.

“It’s just the placenta,” Misty barks, “But, Akilah, I need your help. Now.”

Akilah snaps to attention at the sound of her name, whipping around from where she was beaming at the baby and sinking to her knees at the foot of the bed. Her eyes go wide and terrified at whatever she sees, and Jackie clutches the baby closer.

“What?” Someone asks, their voice high and strained. It takes Jackie a blank second to realize that it’s her. “What’s happening?”

She’s completely ignored. Everyone’s attention is on Misty, white and wild-looking with smears of blood on her forehead. 

“I’m going to get the boiled water,” she says firmly, “And you’re going to have to give her stitches.”

Jackie’s brain short-circuits. It’s all just white noise and raging fear.

“What, like, like stitches down there? That’s insane, you can’t…”

But nobody is listening to her. She blinks and Akilah, drops of water tracing down her arms, is holding a needle and thread like when she pulled Van’s face back together. And this is crazy, this is impossible, this is so incredibly dangerous and they need a doctor and Shauna is so fucking pale. But then Akilah is actually doing it, her hands steady as she weaves the thread in and out. Misty holds a literal candle over her shoulder. Some sort of horrified noise rips up Jackie’s throat, and she takes a step towards Shauna, but Lottie is suddenly blocking her.

“Here,” Lottie says, her fur jacket grazing Jackie’s folded arms, her fingers brushing Jackie’s salty cheek. 

She reaches out her arms – for the baby, Jackie realizes. She’s looking at him with teary eyes, genuine joy shining from her smile. She glances at Jackie, full of hope and amazement and understanding, and something about it makes Jackie step back again. She can’t explain the possessiveness that surges through her veins. It’s just that this baby isn’t Lottie’s. Jackie can’t let anyone else hold him before Shauna. 

Shauna. Jackie pushes past Lottie, careful not to jostle the baby, and falls to her knees beside her best friend’s face. She’s completely out of it: no tears, no twitching, no furrowed eyebrows. Her chest barely rises and falls as they stitch her up.

Every time Jackie thinks that it can’t possibly get worse. Every time she thinks it might be okay. The baby’s miniature right hand waves up out of the blanket, and a brand new terror explodes through Jackie’s entire body. If Shauna doesn’t wake up…

Misty drifts over to cut and tie off the umbilical cord, too exhausted to say anything at all. Everyone else whispers, frightened and inaudible, glancing between Shauna and her son.

Taissa comes over after a little while and offers to take the baby, to get him cleaned up. But Jackie won’t let him go. Tai hesitates, but lets it slide. 

Maybe she should’ve handed him over. Maybe she still should. Because, okay, Jackie’s probably the least qualified person to be taking care of an infant. She’s got no idea what she’s doing, there’s nothing she even can do but hold him, she’s so far out of her depth she’s drowning in it, and she’s still absolutely terrified of dropping him. 

But Shauna asked her to. Shauna asked Jackie to take care of her baby, and no way in hell is she going to fail her best friend again. Also, somehow, miraculously, he seems to like her. He snuggles closer to her chest through the blanket, and quiets down when she hums. She sheds Shauna’s red flannel and wraps it around him, hoping that the layers will at least keep away the cold. Even his breathing is little, coming in quick, barely audible huffs. So is his heartbeat. She rests a finger on his delicate chest to feel the fluttering.

He’s absolutely, heartbreakingly perfect. It’s ridiculous, but this shriveled little creature is the most beautiful thing Jackie has ever seen.

Jackie’s been so unbelievably stupid. Shauna was pregnant and Jackie said, We’re gonna get through this together, and she’d thought that it would tie them together for the rest of their lives. Caring for the baby had only ever been about caring for Shauna. But now he’s here in her arms, breathing and hungry and so breakable her knees are weak. She can’t be selfish with him, because he isn’t a way to keep Shauna close. He’s an infant, completely alive and completely dependent on her right now, and Jackie so cannot bullshit her way through this.

He’s so tiny, too, his paper thin skin stretched over sharp little bones. He’s nothing like the chubby newborns on TV, and Jackie is so, so scared because of it. This baby needs to eat, like, yesterday, and Shauna won’t wake up. 

He eventually starts fussing again, his face tight with pain. His small newborn wailing pricks tears into Jackie’s eyes. Why won’t Shauna wake up? Misty starts babbling about blood loss and Tai manages to wrangle her out of the room. 

Akilah comes forward from the foot of the bed to settle down next to Jackie.

“Infants need to eat every couple of hours,” she says quietly, “With my nephew…My sister was already breastfeeding when we first met him, and my parents rushed us in like an hour after the birth.”

Jackie exhales as evenly as possible. She wants to curl up into a ball and sob until she dies. She wants to squeeze her eyes shut and jam fingers into her ears and ignore all of this. But she can’t look away from Shauna and her son. This – wasted and spent, her best friend dying next to her and her baby dying in her arms – it’s the most complete Jackie can ever remember feeling. She can’t turn away from that.

They have to live. But if they don’t…

Jackie won’t be hurting for very long.

“You should talk to her,” Akilah says, “Maybe it’ll help.”

She lays a gentle hand on Jackie’s shoulder and then pushes herself up again, walking back to the knot of people holding vigil at the end of the bed. We hear the wilderness and it hears us. 

Nothing Jackie does now will help. But she can’t stand to be so far from Shauna anymore.

She climbs carefully into the bed, laying the baby on Shauna’s chest and wrapping her arms around both of them. He quiets down again against his mother’s skin. Jackie speaks low, right into Shauna’s hair, so that none of the others can hear them. 

“Hey, it’s me. And that’s the baby. Your baby, God, he’s all you, Shipman. He has your whole face, not a trace of Jeff, I swear. He’s– it’s a boy, did you hear?”

And, oh, does Jackie desperately want Akilah to be right. Because maybe this won’t help keep Shauna alive, but she has to hear about her son. This insane, stunning, fragile little life that she created. This gift that Jackie never saw coming, that Shauna’s on the verge of death for. 

“He’s so beautiful. Shauna, you fucking did it. You made him. The worst part is over, okay? But we really need you to wake up. We really…”

The lump in Jackie’s throat is getting too big to force words around. But she keeps going, keeps pushing, keeps trying. For them. She presses her lips, bloody from the cold air and from where she kissed the baby’s forehead earlier, to Shauna’s temple. A tear drops down onto the baby, clumsily swaddled in Lottie’s blanket, staining the center of the strange symbol with water and salt.

“Please, Shauna, we need you so much.”

It’s like magic. It is fucking magic, watching Shauna’s eyelids flutter open. It’s the most sacred moment of Jackie’s entire life.

“Holy shit, oh my God, oh, God, Shauna, oh my God.”

And then Akilah is right there again, and so is Tai and Lottie, and they’re congratulating a dazed Shauna with shining eyes, and Jackie is crying so hard it hurts, pressed right up against Shauna, more grateful for hot skin than for the air in her lungs.

“I thought we lost you,” Tai cry-laughs, and Akilah says, “You did it, you did it, you–” and Nat says, “Jesus Christ, Shauna, you are the–” and Van is smiling like she used to, and Travis is actually grinning, and Melissa emotionally lays her cap next to Shauna’s legs, and Lottie closes her eyes in ecstatic calm, and Mari is thanking the wilderness, and Gen is so relieved it can be physically felt, and Misty bursts back into the room crying, “Don’t move! You’ll–”

But Jackie barely notices any of them. Jackie is thinking nothing but Thank you, thank you, thank you. Jackie is seeing nothing but Shauna, radiant, blinking down at her son, the color just barely coming back into her cheeks, crying and unable to sit up all the way and clearly in agony but also beaming, more beautiful than Jackie even knew was possible, laughing like this is all impossible. 

The warm light of sunrise streams down through the window, falling around Shauna’s matted head like a halo. She fits her forefinger into the entirety of the baby’s infinitesimal hand, with a look of pure and absolute love that Jackie has never seen before.

“Hi,” Shauna gasps, her chest heaving, her smile wide like a little kid’s, her huge watery eyes gazing down in awe at their perfect mirror, “Hey, baby.”

Notes:

Okay, notes:

I'm aware that parenting and motherhood are very, very far from being this simple. Shauna's just had a deeply traumatic birth in the middle of the wilderness, and this baby is the result of an unwanted teenage pregnancy. This is not a sunshine and rainbows situation, and believe me when I say that both of their relationships with parenthood are/will be deeply complex.

But still, I'm adamant that Shauna loves this baby - and would in the show. This isn't just because of biology being a hell of a drug, although that is an incredibly powerful force of nature. It's because this baby is the ultimate excuse. If she loves the baby, she doesn't need to feel bad about hooking up with Jeff. If she loves the baby, she doesn't need to feel bad about cannibalism. In terms of the show, she wouldn't even need to be so obsessively guilty for killing Jackie; and the void that her best friend left can (in her mind) be filled up in an instant.

As we know from the show, these girls are in desperate need of something - reason, purpose, motivation to live. This baby is perfectly positioned to be all of those things for Shauna and Jackie, and for the team as a whole, and they're going to cling to that with every ounce of subconscious that they have. Does that mean they don't really love the baby? Absolutely not. But it does mean that their feelings about it are going to be really powerful from the get-go, like the flip of a switch? In my opinion, yeah.

Chapter 15: forever with my poison arms

Shauna’s awake just long enough to feed the baby, which is absolutely astonishing in itself. The milk that she makes is even more of a miracle, given her gaunt eyes and hollow collarbone. But she does it, and Jackie is so fucking grateful. The baby latches on easily, which Akilah says is a really great sign.

He’s a total hit – understandably, Jackie thinks. Nobody loves the sound of his crying, but they’re all sort of in awe of him. It’s crazy that he’s actually a real baby, a teeny-tiny human being, instead of a swollen stomach with the potential to kill. Jackie didn’t know fingernails could come that mini-sized.

They’re also in awe of Shauna, of course. Everyone watches her feed him with reverent respect as Jackie practically glows with pride; which is ridiculous, because she’s done approximately nothing, but, Jesus Christ, that’s her best friend. That’s Shauna, strong and glorious and fiercely loving. That’s Shauna, alive after everything, a living infant in her arms.

She sings to him, mumbling through some slow, sweet song like she’s barely aware that her lips are moving at all.

“Someone’s always coming around here, trailing some new kill…”

Her voice fades in and out as Tai washes the blood off of her legs, pausing only to whine through her teeth when Tai lifts up her knee. Jackie squeezes her hand, silently grateful that Shauna wanted her to stay close rather than clean up. It feels wrong to let Tai do the dirty work, but Jackie’s hardly going to complain about getting to stay beside Shauna and the baby.

“No one’s gonna fool around with us,” Shauna whisper-sings.

Jackie’s heart almost bursts when she realizes that out of everyone in the cramped cabin, she and the baby are the only ones who can hear the song. It’s like, even with everybody around, it’s just the three of them. She’d be worried about intruding if Shauna hadn’t frowned and pulled her closer when she tried to scootch away. If Shauna’s free hand wasn’t gripping Jackie’s like she’s afraid they’ll be pulled apart.

“So glad to meet you, Angeles.”

Still, though. Jackie can’t let herself really enjoy the moment. Shauna’s awake now, but she’s way too pale. Her arms shake just holding the baby, and Jackie knows for a fact that he weighs next to nothing. Tai brings her some porcupine stew, which she slurps down eagerly, but it doesn’t seem to do much.

“You took care of him?” Shauna asks.

She’s barely looked away from the baby since she woke up, but she locks eyes with Jackie now. Her skin is a pasty yellow color; her eye sockets are purplish-brown like they’ve been bruised. She’s so pretty. She’s so divine. 

“Yeah,” Jackie says, her throat still sore from when she sobbed her heart out of it. “Is that okay?”

“Course,” Shauna smiles, exhausted, and then winces as Taissa sits down onto the mattress.

“We’ll take him,” Tai says, “We’ll clean him up.”

Jackie expects Shauna to hand him over easily. She flashes back to that moment of panic before the milk started flowing from Shauna’s breast (which was super weird, but Jackie was totally normal about it; she turned away respectfully and did not whip her head around like a complete lunatic at the slightest glance of pale skin). Shauna had gotten this wild look, and somehow that  was what made Jackie realize the enormity of Shauna’s connection to the baby. She’s his entire lifeline, even more than she is Jackie’s. A whole human life is an insane responsibility; Jackie figured that Shauna would appreciate a minute to rest from it.

Instead, Shauna’s fingers spasm to clutch the baby closer, eyeing Tai with– Woah, distrust? Why?

She fixes her face quickly, but Tai clearly notices. She leans back, hurt and surprised, as Shauna pulls together an explanation.

“Sorry, it’s not you. I just– I don’t think I can let him go yet, you know?”

Tai nods, fixing her face into something more understanding.

“I get it,” she says, “We can wash him in here. But you really need to rest, Shauna.”

Jackie nods along with her, willing Shauna to get just how badly she needs to sleep. Her eyelids keep pulling down, her head slumping down at the sound of the baby’s light little breathing. Jackie’s been nudging her to keep her awake, but that can’t last for long. It’s not healthy.

Most of the others have already crashed, now that Shauna seems pretty stable and the baby’s been fed. Jackie is too wired to even imagine falling asleep, although she’s been up for at least twenty-four hours at this point.

Shauna hesitates, frowning, but her eyes are drooping closed.

“You’ll take care of him?” She asks Jackie.

Jackie nods almost frantically, reaching for the baby with a lot more confidence than she actually has. Shauna passes him over with another hiss of pain, resting a shaking hand on his stomach before pulling back and screwing her eyes closed. Jackie looks down at the infant in her arms, his squinted eyes staring up at her in uncharacteristic silence.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

The baby is fragile.

Jackie has him laid out over her forearms, clumsily swaddled, his head cradled in her hands. Her fingers have been too bony for months, but they look massive as she rubs her thumb against his impossibly silky hair. He’s asleep, his tiny mouth relaxed into openness, his little chest expanding over Jackie’s wrists.

He huffs and her heartbeat kicks up, pounding almost fast enough to match the fluttering pulse at the top of his head. He’s so soft. Akilah said it was normal when Jackie asked, but that doesn’t make it any less scary. His skull could cave in if she presses on it. His neck could snap if she doesn’t support it right. He could break, right now, if she moves wrong. She’s so terrified of dropping him that she doesn’t even trust herself to scoot closer to Shauna.

It wasn’t so bad earlier. Shauna held him as he drank her milk, and the only time Jackie wasn’t worried about him was when he was in her arms. And then even when Shauna handed him back over, there were people everywhere to keep Jackie from screwing up.

Shauna wouldn’t let anyone but Jackie hold the baby, but Tai washed his body and Akilah changed out his diaper rags and Misty kept checking him for jaundice and everyone else plunged their hands into hot water so that they could stroke his soft arms, his smooth hair. Jackie was the only one who could cradle his body and breathe in his baby-smell, but she was under constant surveillance. If she lost her balance, there were about seven people who could catch him before he hit the floor.

Everyone’s asleep now, though. They’re all exhausted, of course – Shauna most of all, but the whole cabin was up through the night. They were out before Mari had time to put blankets over the windows and block the dim sunlight. Tai, Misty, and Lottie all offered to take the first shift with the baby, but Jackie couldn’t let him go. Shauna asked Jackie to watch him, so that’s what she’s doing. Watching him.

She can’t seem to stop, actually. She traces his itsy-bitsy button nose and the miniature rivers of his deep blue veins, brings her forehead down to hover just above his, counts every one of his eensy-weensy fingers and all ten of his teensy-tiny toes just to make sure that he’s still whole. God, this kid has her thinking words like itsy-bitsy and eensy-weensy, because he is, because he’s this massive miracle and also, somehow, two times smaller than Constance Claire the Cabbage Patch baby.

It’s silent for long enough that when the cabin door creaks, Jackie curls over the baby in pure instinct, her shoulders tensing like they’re about to be attacked. But when she straightens out it’s just–

Holy shit. It’s Coach Ben.

“Coach Ben?!,” she asks incredulously, not bothering to keep her voice down, “Where the fuck have you been?”

He stumbles forwards, his face frighteningly vacant. Nobody else stirs. He’s pale and jerky and ghostlike, and Jackie is half sure that this is a dream, but the slide of green fabric against her skin as the baby wriggles feels pretty real.

Coach Ben stops at the foot of the bed, his mouth hanging open like he’s shocked. It’s the same expression he had when they won States; for a second Jackie thinks he’s going to congratulate her, or marvel at the baby like everyone else.

Instead he says, “She had it? It’s alive?”

Jackie’s so tired that she almost says something like, uh, duh, no shit. But she’s also so tired that she can’t fully process the fact that Coach Ben just sauntered into the cabin like he wasn’t missing for two whole fucking weeks, so she just sort of gapes at him. 

He doesn’t even seem to notice. He bends down, arm outstretched like he’s going to touch the baby’s cheek.

Akilah pops into her head, wagging her finger like the Terminator: He’s really vulnerable to getting sick right now, so don’t let anybody touch his face. Jackie bends over the baby again, pulling him up and shielding him with her body. Coach Ben blinks, surprised, and seems to finally see her. They lock eyes through her eyelashes, and she shudders. His pupils are deep and dark and empty.

He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but the baby beats him to it. 

The crying is faint, but it wakes Misty and Lottie. And once Misty cries, “Coach Scott!,” Shauna is the only one still asleep.

Jackie doesn’t want to acknowledge how relieved she is once Nat pulls Coach Ben away.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Misty and Akilah force Jackie to take a nap the next time they wake Shauna to feed him. They won’t let her change his diaper, which – as much as she truly does not want to come into contact with somebody else’s piss and shit – is a little unfair. She can’t explain it, but that feels like her responsibility. And weirdly, she doesn’t think she’d mind so much if it was Shauna’s baby’s piss and shit.

Oh, she is gone for this baby. She’s never really wanted kids, and she has absolutely no fucking idea what she’s doing, but something about his blotchy little face is making her rethink all of it. Not that it matters, of course. It’s not like he’s hers. She’s just taking care of him while Shauna sleeps.

Jackie doesn’t have even nearly enough headspace to consider the pang that shoots through her at that thought.

She sleeps fitfully, torn between nightmares and tossing and turning. Tai shakes her awake, grim-faced, after what feels like five minutes. Jackie groans, the exhaustion finally weighing heavy on her bones, but Tai doesn’t let up.

“Sorry, Jackie, but Shauna won’t give him to anyone else.”

Shauna’s voice, high and cracking with piercing panic, mixes with the baby’s feeble crying.

“Don’t– Stay away from us, don’t fucking touch him–”

Jackie pushes herself up, suddenly wide awake, shoving away from Tai and rushing to Shauna.

“I’m sorry, Shauna, I’m so sorry, I’m here.”

Shauna crumples into tears when she sees Jackie, relaxing her grip on the baby. Jackie stumbles into the bed and Shauna buries her face in Jackie’s shoulder without a thought, her breath hot and her cheeks wet.

“They fucking– they fucking ate my baby, and you were–”

Jackie strokes her best friend’s hair, her heart breaking as the baby’s wailing grates at her ears. That bitter helplessness is rising again, and she deserves this because she let them talk her into falling asleep, but Shauna doesn’t. Shauna shouldn’t ever be sad.

“It was just a dream,” she promises, “Look, see, he’s right here. It’s okay, Shipman, you’ve got him. We’re okay.”

Shauna shudders as she sobs, and Jackie glares at Lottie until she backs off. She adjusts so that her arms are wound tight around Shauna’s body, the crook of her elbow resting against the baby’s back, and holds them while they cry.

Shauna calms down eventually, the heaving of her chest evening out, but she stays hidden against Jackie’s neck.

“It was so real,” she whispers.

Jackie rubs her arms like she used to, like they’re thirteen on a pink bedspread and Shauna is crying over her dad again, like she still knows exactly who Shauna is and exactly how to comfort her.

“I know,” she murmurs into Shauna’s hair, “I know, but it wasn’t. This is.”

Shauna nods, so slightly that Jackie probably wouldn’t have noticed if she couldn’t feel all of her flyaways on the skin of her collarbone. Her breath grows slow and steady; she’s asleep in seconds.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Jackie’s the only one awake again.

It’s the dead of night, but the full moon seems unnaturally bright through the glass window panes. The baby is swaddled and laying in the makeshift crib, fed when the silvery light was hitting Shauna’s left shoulder and changed once it hit her right and definitely conked out now. Jackie should be asleep, too, but she can’t let her eyes close. She sits up in the bed and watches him and watches Shauna, like she’s been doing for the past twenty-four hours, like she wants to for the rest of her life.

Shauna’s eyes flutter open like something out of a fairy tale. The most beautiful woman in the world, with night-dark hair and starlight skin and lips bloodied bright red. Jackie’s breath catches as she smiles, slow and sleepy.

“Jackie,” Shauna sighs, and lifts a pale hand to tangle it in Jackie’s hair.

There’s an odd buzzing sound in Jackie’s ears, familiar, alien to the day. It belongs to drunken bathrooms and spinning bottles and bedrooms when all the lights are out. It belongs to Shauna, and to all the times Jackie has feverishly thought maybe.

Shauna tugs her down to her face, gentle even though it hurts, and Jackie blue screens. Shauna tilts her head closer, and Jackie pulls back just a bit. The corner of Shauna’s mouth quirks up, confused and amused.

“It’s okay, Jax,” she breathes.

Shauna nudges closer and brushes their lips together, and–

Quiet.

Jackie’s always thinking. Even when she sleeps she dreams. But here, now, her mind goes still and silent. Her eyes slip closed into the dark. The entire world narrows down to the warmth of Shauna’s mouth, the faint press of her teeth, and Jackie is quiet.

And then Shauna sighs into her mouth, her lips opening just a hair, and suddenly everything is on fire and Jackie is burning and burning and burning, and she tilts her head closer and her hands fly down to Shauna’s hair and Shauna’s neck and Shauna’s collarbone, and Shauna’s lips caught between hers and Shauna’s breath down her throat, and, oh, Shauna, Shauna Shauna–

Shauna hums happily, and Jackie can feel her crooked smile just like she’d imagined at every sleepover since the seventh grade. She breaks the kiss, grinning sleepily as Jackie tries to chase it, and murmurs, “I usually wake up by now.”

Jackie stops like she’s been sucker punched, a strangled sound tearing out of her lungs. The buzzing is louder than ever, roaring over the noise of a dozen sleeping girls. Her heart pounds against her ribcage hard enough to fracture bone. It hurts like hot water on frozen skin to pull away. It hurts like the first snowfall of winter.

“What?”

But Shauna has already slumped back against the pillows, her eyes slipping closed, her smile slackening. Jackie lifts a hand to wake her up and then pulls it away like she’s been burned.

What. What the. Fuck. What the actual fuck. Was that.

What did Jackie just do?

She sits, frozen, until the baby cries again.

Notes:

This chapter was sort of disjointed and disorienting, but that's definitely on purpose! Hopefully it works lol

Chapter 16: how good you are for me

Notes:

Okay this chapter is super fragmented, because Shauna's state of mind is sort of all over the place rn. This isn't super chronological - there are a bunch of missing scenes here, but there are also a bunch of missing scenes in terms of her memory lol. Hopefully it's not too difficult to understand!

Shauna can’t tell when she’s dreaming.

She keeps fading in and out of reality. One moment she’s bedridden by the agony between her legs, the ache in all of her joints, the soreness of her breasts; the next she’s sprinting through the trees, a splintering spear clutched in her hand, howling, hunting a rabbit that is Jackie that is a rabbit. She’s feeding the baby, her chest numb, and it’s painful and pinching and she never wants to set him down. She’s eating – chicken and chips, steak and ice cream, fruit by the foot, squirrel and porcupine and bear, Javi and Javi and Javi. She’s kissing Jackie, starlight tangled in her hair, eyes too bright to be real. She’s dying, over and over again; tumbling through screeching metal, burning in an inferno, mauled by claws and teeth, bleeding out on filthy blankets, the silver flash of a knife slitting her throat. The baby is feeding from her body, sucking and sucking until he has swallowed her whole. The baby is dying, her son, bone of her bones and flesh of her flesh caught between the teeth of her starving teammates.

Those are the worst dreams; even worse than the ones where Shauna dies. Even worse than the ones where Jackie dies, which Shauna hadn’t known was possible. Because somehow, after holding him all of one time, she knows that her kid is the most important thing in the world. The most important person to protect.

Whenever she’s awake she’s in an unbearable amount of pain, and so exhausted it hurts, and so scared for him she’s afraid that she can’t control herself. She actually growls at Lottie every time she gets too close, and she won’t let anyone take him from her but Jackie and even that feels like pulling teeth. Giving birth to him was tearing her actual heart out of her body and exposing it, raw and beating, to the frigid winter air. But feeling his floppy, warm little head against her bare skin, and watching the pure comfort in his eyes as she feeds him from her own body – it’s an unimaginable relief.

For years, Shauna has been insecure and jealous and cruel. There’s been bitterness roiling in her stomach and spite coating the back of her tongue for so long, she wasn’t sure who she would be without it.  Even before their plane crashed, she was terrified and angry all of the time. But when she holds her baby, that poison unclogs her arteries. It doesn’t go away, not really, but it sharpens into something she can control. And Shauna becomes something that she doesn’t need to despise. Not even Jackie could give her that.

She does miss sleeping, though.

She’s heard about how difficult newborns are, of course. Her mom used to smile fondly as she told Jackie about Shauna’s colicky stage; about shirts covered in spit up and sleep deprivation and endless diaper changes and the noticeable absence of Shauna’s dad. But Shauna had such a hard time sleeping through the last weeks of her pregnancy; she figured that she’d get at least a few more hours once the baby was finally out of her.

But apparently infants need to feed every three-ish hours. Which means that after a full day and night of back-breaking labor and almost actually bleeding out, Shauna is being shaken awake every two hours to be milked like a cow.

Not that she can really complain, of course. Breastfeeding is awkward and painful and keeps the baby alive. But the dreams…

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

There’s a man Shauna has never seen before next to the bed. There’s a man that Shauna lives with reaching down into a cradle of bone and tracing a symbol onto her baby’s forehead. They are the same man. They are nobody at all.

The baby has small spit bubbles glistening on his mouth. He breathes through his tiny nose and the walls lean closer to hear it.

They all look the same, the man thinks. Shauna knows what he thinks. He has our eyes, she does not answer. The man smiles anyway.

It wants him. It has them. They both know it.

What do I do?   Shauna does not ask. The man does not say, What I didn’t. He wipes the spit from the baby’s mouth and blocks the blood as it drips from the ceiling. Shauna lets it splatter on her eyelids but pulls the blanket up to cover her chest.

A branch claws at the window. When the man looks at her, she can see past his skin. She has seen past his skin. His bleached jawbone is more familiar than his sad smile. The room begins to blur, light melting into shadow, fire climbing up the wooden walls.

“We’ll be waiting for you.”

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Shauna opens her eyes to find a man standing next to the bed.

Jackie is knocked out at her right, snoring with her torso slumped against the bed. Muffled noise from the kitchen tells Shauna that at least a couple of people are up – Tai and Van, probably, because she doesn’t see anyone else missing from the bundle of blankets on the floor. Coach Ben is staring down at the baby, expressionless, a hand hovering just over the crib of sticks.

Shauna shoots up to a sitting position, biting her cheek against the cry of pain. Her hands curl into fists over the blanket, but she doesn’t rush for the baby. Her arms shake with restraint. Coach Ben doesn’t even flinch.

“Coach Scott?” She asks, cautious, steady.

His eyes are blank like he can’t recognize her. She twitches her leg, trying to wake Jackie, and blinks away the tears that accompany the movement. But then Coach Ben blinks, and plasters on a hollow smile.

“Congratulations.”

Shauna doesn’t relax her arms. He hasn’t moved away from the baby. He looks down again and Shauna inches her left arm down. She can’t reach Jackie, but if she can knock the pee bucket to the floor…

“Some kind of life, huh,” Coach Ben murmurs.

It’s not for her. It’s for her son. There’s something savage in his pity. Her breathing grows so ragged she can hear it rushing in her own ears.

“You didn’t ask for this. It’s not fair, is it? It’s not fair.”

Shauna wants to scream. She wants to launch herself at Coach Ben and claw off his mournful expression. She wants blood on her hands, her legs, her chest, and she wants it to be because of her own violence. She wants the baby back inside of her, sheltered by her ribcage, tucked right under her beating heart, warm beneath her skin. It was so much easier to keep him safe, then.

“Coach Ben?”

It’s Tai. Tai, hesitant in the kitchen doorway, making sure that Shauna is okay. Tai, steady of hands and strong of jaw, like a knight from one of Shauna’s childhood fantasies. Shauna’s so relieved she could cry.

Coach Ben pushes back the chair to stand, so tall that his head seems to scrape the ceiling. He’s not fumbling for his crutches anymore.

Shauna doesn’t stop watching him as he walks away.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Lottie is trying to take the baby.

Shauna holds him in a vice grip, trying to keep herself from biting at Lottie’s fingers. Jackie stands between them, shielding Shauna and the baby.

“It’ll be quick,” Lottie promises, “And it won’t hurt. We would never hurt him.”

“No,” Shauna snaps, “You are not involving my baby in your fucking wilderness cult.”

“I just want to keep him safe. All I want is to protect our baby.”

Shauna just barely stops the scream building in her throat. After everything she just went through – the months of terror and the agonizing labor and the first time she saw her baby’s eyes, bigger and brighter and more beautiful than the sun itself – after everything, Lottie has the audacity to call her son our baby. Shauna could kill her. Shauna will kill her, if she lays a single finger on her kid. She’s drag herself out of bed and tear Lottie limb from limb with her bare fucking hands.

“Shauna said no,” Jackie says in her firm captain’s voice, “So back off.”

Shauna blinks up at her. She hasn’t heard Jackie speak like that in months.

Lottie fiddles with her leaf wand nervously, staring down at the baby like she wants to rip him out of Shauna’s arms, but she drifts away. For now, at least. If the crowd of girls shooting dark looks at Jackie is any indication, this fight is far from over.

Even if Shauna wasn’t having horrifically vivid nightmares every time she closed her eyes, she’d be afraid to fall asleep. The way the others look at her baby…

It’s hungry. They’re starving for him, and she knows it, and she’s the weakest she’s ever been in her life. Jackie is watching over him, and Nat and Tai, but they couldn’t possibly protect him against all of the others.

Still, though. Sleep catches at Shauna’s mind as she leans back against the lumpy pillows. Jackie lifts her son from her arms and she drifts, and she drifts, and she drifts.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

There’s music playing: Frank Sinatra. One of her grandfather’s favorites. The trees sway along, outside the window. They curl their leaves in invitation. It’s cold in the cabin, but the sun shines through the green outside the window.

“Shauna!”

Jackie is smiling from the doorway, her face cast in shadow because of the brilliance at her back. Shauna’s curly-haired baby is in her arms, with chubby cheeks and rolls in his arms and a wide smile. He giggles at the sound of Jackie’s voice.

I’ve got you under my skin, Sinatra croons, and Shauna sees where it’s coming from. They’ve got her grandparents’ old record player outside, on top of the picnic blanket. Shauna’s breath fogs through the frigid air, just barely obscuring the sight of Tai’s tank top and the heaping plate of rugelach on her lap. It looks just like the one Shauna’s mom brought to her Bubbe’s funeral. But happier, with the lacy shadows of tree branches flickering across it.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” Jackie beams.

Her face is full, her lips tinted with cherry-flavored gloss, her hair curled to perfection. A warm wind blows the skirt of her green dress towards Shauna, stilling her shivers.

“Hurry up!”

Shauna takes a step forward. Bubbe is sitting on the grass, one frail hand intertwined in Zayde’s. His head bobs along to the music, just slightly, just like Shauna. Shauna used to dance with him in the living room like that. She would jump and twirl and he would smile and sway in his armchair. It’s been so long since she’s been able to remember what he looks like when he’s moving. So long…

Right. Because. Because Zayde isn’t–

“Come on!” Javi calls from next to them, grinning with powdered sugar around his mouth, “Aren’t you hungry?”

Of course she’s hungry. She’s always hungry. But here, maybe, she could eat. In the day, in the light, Shauna could find out who she is when she’s satiated. She could remember what a stomach feels like when it’s filled. Javi waves a piece of crumb cake, impatient in his eagerness. Shauna steps forward again.

It would be so easy to sit in that soft grass, with the sun on her cheeks. The easiest thing in the world. Three more steps and she’s at the door…

“It’s time for you to go,” Laura Lee says from the corner.

It’s kind. It’s always kind, when Laura Lee is the one saying it. But Shauna can’t accept it. She thinks of leaving this place, where there is warmth and food and family three steps away, and she wants to gouge out her friend’s sad blue eyes.

“I know,” Laura Lee says, “But you have to go.”

Shauna doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want to go back there. But Laura Lee rushes at her, quick and sure and strong from four years of Coach Martinez’s obsessive drilling, and shoves her to the floor. The music swells for just a moment – don’t you know, little fool – before warping into silence.

The pain hits before Shauna can open her eyes

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

There’s meat cooking.

Lottie is thanking the wilderness. Lottie is fourteen years old, her cleats even more expensive than Jackie’s but twice as scuffed. Lottie is thanking Shauna.

“The wilderness provided for you,” she says, “And now you provide for us.”

Her shadow is taller than everyone else’s. It has horns like the branches of a tree. Nobody will look Shauna in the face. The baby is asleep for the first time in hours and she knows that they waited for him to be. They sit in a circle around the bed, closed at the head by Shauna’s bed. They all look at her with their eyes. They see her. They love her. She has saved them. They are grateful.

Her bowl is fuller than the others. Jackie made them swear — half is for Shauna. The rest can be divvied up. The baby comes first. Shauna remembers the fight only vaguely. Mari said, well we’re all out of fucking porcupine and our baby needs to eat so unless you want to boil the belt; Jackie screamed, he’s not our baby he’s shauna’s baby and that’s shauna’s actual internal organ; Shauna said, it’s fine it’s fine we need to eat. Everyone pretended that they couldn’t see Nat cry.

The great skull of the moose, the hollows of its bleached bone, stare at Shauna through the shadows as she dips a shaking hand down, down, down. Wood brushes against her fingers. So does something spongy and squelching and wet. Nobody lifts their pieces until Shauna’s throat has bobbed.

The bones of Jackie’s face are strange in the firelight. Her jaw does not move as the sounds of slurping and moaning fill the room. The gnashing of teeth. Her bowl is different; some sort of stew. The chunks of meat bobbing through it are small, thin and withered and yellow-brown.

“You’re not eating,” Shauna hears herself say. Jackie looks at her with her eyes, so much less sharp.

“Eat,” Shauna hears herself say. Jackie is crying. She spoons the food into her mouth and shudders with her whole body. Shauna is eating meat and it is hot and chewy and it tastes like blood. Jackie’s jaw jerks up and down, up and down, and Shauna watches because that’s her in Jackie’s mouth, between Jackie’s teeth, rolling down Jackie’s tongue. Jackie is chewing her, swallowing her, tucking her away down in the depths of her stomach to be digested, and now everyone can see it. Now everyone knows.

Shauna is asleep before Jackie can catch the empty bowl from her slackening fingers.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Shauna is laid out on a table. Lottie is thanking her.

“The wilderness provided for you,” she says, “And now you provide for us.”

Shauna doesn’t say: I don’t want to. She can’t move her lips. The baby is awake, and crying, and nobody will go to him. The others sit in a circle in the dark, in the night, and she recognizes them only by the bridges of their noses and the flash of their teeth. Van’s snarl, Tai’s slack jaw, Misty’s outstretched hands. None of them come into the light. None of them look her in the eyes.

There’s meat cooking. Shauna can smell it. Shauna is it. Shauna cannot scream. Shauna is hurting, which means this must be real.

She is dead and they are eating her alive. They tear her skin from her muscles and her muscles from her bones and her bones from her body. They eat, ravenous and animalistic, and she can’t even cry. 

Jackie does, though. Jackie brings her face into the light as she takes Shauna between her teeth. Jackie shudders and sobs and spoons Shauna into her mouth.

It is agonizing. It is worse than burning; it must be, because Shauna must have burned to become this charred hunk of flesh. It is worse than the labor and worse than the birth and worse than all the fear that came before. She wants it to end but when it does she will go with it, and she is so afraid of the nothingness, but she cannot take any more of the pain–

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Shauna gasps awake to the sound of the baby’s crying. 

They’ve moved her to the little back room, booting Travis and Coach Ben to the corner of the main room. It’s late – there’s no sound from outside the door. Jackie is bouncing the baby at the foot of the bed, pacing back and forth in tiny circles. She’s trying to quiet him through nonsensical whispers, her voice strained with exhaustion. 

“"Baby boy," Jackie hushes, "Baby baby baby boy. Shhh, it’s okay, sweet boy. It’s okay, see? Your mama’s just sleeping, baby. She just needs to rest. Oh, I know, it’s cold. But you’re alright, baby…"

Shauna sighs and opens her eyes.

“I’m awake,” she croaks.

Jackie whirls around with guilty eyes.

“Sorry,” she says. 

Shauna shakes her head and lifts her arms for the baby. Jackie wavers, worried, but hands him over without a word. He doesn’t stop wailing, but he does nestle towards her. It’s like a shot of sunshine, flooding her with warmth.

Shauna is insane for this baby, animalistic and unhinged and completely fucking cracked. She strokes the tiny slope of his nose with her pinky, marveling at the perfect softness of him, and thinks, Here is what I would do for you: kill, die.

Here is what she would do for him: anything, everything.

Emily Dickens once wrote that the brain is wider than the sky, deeper than the sea, just the weight of God. Shauna was never a real Dickens fanatic, but she’d liked that poem enough to paste it onto the section of her bedroom wall at home dedicated to literary quotes. She’d probably thought some melodramatic teenage nonsense about how she contained unseen multitudes, and somehow it would’ve become about Jackie, and then she’d gone about her day.

But looking at this baby, her baby, her son, she understands completely. This warm little bundle in her hands is an entire universe, just beginning to form, entrusted solely to her. She still can’t fathom what she did to deserve it. She’s almost paralyzed with the fear of screwing it up.

She won’t feed him – it hasn’t been long enough, and they don’t want to risk her running out of milk before Natalie manages to catch something to eat.

“Does he need to be changed?” Shauna asks.

They’ve been using scraps of fabric for diapers, old rags and bits of cabin carpet dunked in hot water. They’re already running out; last time Shauna was awake, Mari and Melissa were arguing about who was going to wash them. Otherwise, he’s just been wrapped up in makeshift blankets – the bear pelt and Lottie’s quilt and Jackie’s varsity jacket and Shauna’s blue flannel. The baby clothes Jackie made are too big for him to wear yet.

“No,” Jackie says, “I just did it.”

“Thanks,” Shauna whispers.

Jackie blushes, barely visibly in the pale moonlight.

“No problem.”

Shauna pats his back like Akilah showed her, in case it’s gas. She layers another blanket over him, and rubs his back, and makes shhh noises, and rests him on her chest so that he can hear her heartbeat. None of it works.

“Come on,” she begs, “Please stop crying.”

Jackie watches Shauna’s futile efforts, and Shauna does her best to tamp down the flash of desperate anger that surges through her. Jackie’s been so helpful, and so good, and if Shauna didn’t have her here she thinks she’d lose her mind. But it drives Shauna crazy when she just stands there like that, a foot away and completely silent.

But then Jackie murmurs, “I think he likes when we sing to him."

She says it like she’s sharing a miraculous secret, a universal truth trusted only to the two of them. And it’s funny; for the past few days, Shauna’s been ready to rip Lottie’s head off for acting like she knew Shauna’s own son better than she did. But getting advice from Jackie, who smiles at her baby with the same naked awe constantly swelling in Shauna’s chest, is more comforting than anything else. Comforting enough to smooth the sting of Jackie knowing that when Shauna didn't. And it’s worth a fucking shot.

Shauna slots the tip of her index finger into her son’s tiny hand, watches his little red fingers flex as he cries. For a moment she can’t think of a song, and she panics a little at the thought that she can’t even give him this small comfort.

But then words float into her head, hazy around the edges. A lullaby her Bubbe used to sing when she was very little, one she hasn’t thought of in years. 

“Lernt, kinder, hot nit moyre,” she sings, stumbling over the pronunciation less with each word.

This is something older than the wilderness, older even than JackieandShauna. This song has been curled up in Shauna’s heart since before she was born. And now she gets to share it with her son.

“Yeder onheyb iz shver; gliklekh iz der, vos hot gelernt toyre – tsi darf der mentsh nokh mer…”

Her voice lilts through the chorus, and the baby’s screams quiet. The violent red eases from his face as the tension in it releases. By the next verse, the noises escaping from his mouth are the usual little huffs and hitches. It’s sort of magical, the power that Shauna has to calm him. Just being held in her arms and listening to her voice has him drifting off to sleep.

“Ir vet, kinder, elter vern, vet ir aleyn farshteyn, vifl in di oysies lign trern un vir fil geveyn.”

His enormous brown eyes slip closed and Shauna’s singing trails off as she watches him sleep. She’s struck, the way she has been almost constantly since the first time she saw him, by how much she loves him. It feels even bigger than she is – pushes against the inside of her skin, like it can’t all fit within her. Her baby. Her boy.

“He loves you,” Jackie murmurs.

Shauna looks up to find her smiling softly. It’s so tender she almost bursts. She looks away, back down to her son, and finds it doesn’t help much at all.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know it before, but I love you,” Shauna whispers to him.

He can’t hear her and there’s no way he’ll be able to remember this, but she needs him to know. It’s such an all-consuming fact, carved into her bones, stamped on every single one of her atoms. Molecular, universal truth. The sky is blue, humans need air to breathe, and Shauna loves her baby. She can’t believe that she ever doubted it.

“I do, too.” Jackie’s voice cracks over the confession.

Shauna turns her face towards her again. Her best friend looks distraught, guilty; like she’s been caught doing something wrong.

“I’m sorry,” Jackie says.

Shauna finds herself frowning. This isn’t the time for apologies; it’s the happiest moment she can remember. Just Shauna and Jackie and the baby, warm under the blankets, cradled in the depths of the night.

“I don’t want to ruin your moment, or, like, intrude,” Jackie continues, rambling miserably, “But I just–”

She breathes in deep and shaky, gazing at Shauna’s baby with this impossibly vulnerable expression. Shauna intimately understands the terrified awe in her eyes; it’s a reflection of what she feels every time she looks at her son. 

“I really love him, Shauna. Like, an insane amount.”

It’s like she expects Shauna to be upset about that. And she probably should be – she just was. She’s ridiculously possessive over this little life. But it just feels right, that Jackie’s love for him is clearly a rival to Shauna’s. That it’s the three of them here right now, warm together.

“Same,” Shauna grins.

Jackie smiles back, hesitant in her relief. Shauna sort of hates that she’s still holding back, so she shifts the baby so that his butt is cradled in her hand and his head is resting on her shoulder, careful to support his neck just like Akilah showed her. She sits up slowly, ignoring Jackie’s fluttering worry, and angles her head to the bed.

“Come here,” Shauna says, “Sit down.”

Jackie pauses for a moment, but does it anyway. She reaches out to touch the baby’s back, slowly so that Shauna can stop her. She doesn’t. It’s a good way to get Jackie closer. 

“Have you thought of a name?” Jackie asks, still using that quiet voice.

Shauna shakes her head.

“Have you?”

Jackie looks up at her, surprised. For a second Shauna’s scared she’ll say something like, He’s your baby, not mine.

But Jackie says, “I mean, it’s totally fine if you don’t like it. But for a middle name…uh, I don’t know, he sort of looks like a Daniel, right? Or, you know, like he’s got Daniel somewhere in there.”

Shauna tests it out in her head, visualizing his face. Daniel. Danny. Danny Shipman.

She likes it, but it doesn’t feel exactly right.

“As his middle name,” Shauna agrees.

She studies him, considering. She hasn’t really had the time to think about names, honestly, not since he was born. And before that she absolutely refused to; she didn’t think she could handle naming him and then losing him. She couldn’t really handle the idea of him at all, mostly because she was convinced that she would die in labor.

She could still lose him. But she can’t handle thinking about that, either.

Now, though…there are a couple of options she likes. She pulls him back down into her arms so that she can look at his face while she contemplates them, to see what fits best.

“Noah,” she breathes, “His name is Noah.”

“Noah Daniel Shipman,” Jackie says reverently, stroking his impossibly soft head with one fingertip.

Hearing her say it out loud sends a chill down Shauna’s spine. This is real. Her baby has a name.

They admire him, watching the way his pupils flicker under his eyelids, the wisps of noise that he makes in his sleep. Shauna wonders what he dreams about, if he dreams at all. 

She wants to know. She wants to know everything about him, and everything about who he’s going to be. She can’t wait to watch him grow up, and to be there for every second of it. She can’t wait to go through life with him — with them, her son in her arms and Jackie by her side. In this moment, it feels so easy. It feels like family.

“It’s just us, kid,” she murmurs, “Just us against the whole world.”

She’d do anything to have that future. Absolutely anything.

Jackie presses closer slowly, seemingly without even realizing what she’s doing, until they’re pressed flush up against each other and Shauna’s head is on her best friend’s shoulder. Her eyes start to slip closed, a warm hum of exhaustion weighing them down.

“Shauna,” Jackie starts and stops. If Shauna weren’t so tired she’d ask her to finish her thought, but it doesn’t seem the time to pick at unfinished sentences.

“You should get some sleep,” Jackie finally decides.

Shauna nods, her eyes closed. She just barely has the presence of mind to hand the baby over. Jackie moves like she’s about to get up, and Shauna fists a heavy hand into her sweater.

“Stay,” she says.

Shauna falls asleep to the sound of Jackie humming quietly, the melody layered over Noah’s quiet fussing.

Chapter 17: moment she's been waiting for

Being yanked awake feels like falling out of the sky. Jackie is shaking Shauna's arm, whispering.

“Shauna. Shauna, come on, you need to feed the baby.”

Shauna groans and burrows her face into the pillow, her eyes shut tight and stinging anyway. The baby’s crying pricks at her skin like the winter wind.

“I can’t.”

Jackie sounds close to tears herself.

“I know,” she says in a fractured sort of voice, “But he needs you. Come on, Shauna, please, he’s so hungry.”

Jackie doesn’t understand. It’s not that Shauna doesn’t want to get up. She just- she can’t. Her breasts ache and her back aches and she’s in pain every time she breathes and she’s starving. It’s all fucking impossible, and all she wants to do is sleep forever, and the thin wailing coming from the bundle in Jackie’s arms is its own kind of death. She never wanted this. She never planned for this, and she can’t do it, she can’t, she–

A sudden, violent sting shoves her face down deeper into the stiff mattress. She hears Jackie cry out, but barely has time to open her eyes before bony hands jab into her shoulders and yank her up into a sitting position.

“What the fuck, Misty?” Tai gapes, horrified, from the door. 

Misty angles herself forward, blocking them from view, so that all Shauna can see are wild brown eyes framed by enormous round glasses. Shauna wrestles back on instinct, but she’s still too weak to put up a real fight.

“I know you’re tired,” Misty says, shaking her, “But this isn’t about you. We all need this baby, okay? So wake up and feed him.”

Jackie finally pulls Misty back with a, “What is wrong with you?,” leaving Shauna to slump against the wooden wall. But then there’s a warm little weight in her arms, and she’s staring down at the baby, his face scrunched up in pain. Her tears blur her vision until he’s a red-and-white blob, his mouth a tiny black hole.

She looks up and Misty and Tai are gone, the door shut behind them. It’s just her and the baby, and Jackie stroking her hair. 

Shauna is the worst mother of all time. Her baby is starving, and he needs her, and she won’t take the minimal effort to feed him because she’s, what, tired? He’s going to die out here, because all he has is Shuana and she’s nothing but poison, and–

Warm hands skim the hem of her shirt. Shauna jerks her head up to find Jackie, avoiding her gaze, her cheeks redder than Shauna has seen them since they all got sunburn last summer.

“I just figured…I promised you wouldn’t have to do it alone.”

And, God, isn’t that pathetic. Shauna doesn’t even have the energy to pull up her shirt. She has to get Jackie to do it for her, because she can’t do anything alone.

But Noah needs to be fed, and Shauna’s arms are too heavy to move. So she nods, locking eyes with Jackie in an attempt to keep hold of her last scraps of dignity. It doesn’t do much, not as Jackie’s icy hands come up to cup Shauna’s breast. Not as Jackie lifts Noah closer, until Shauna can’t tell which one of them is holding more of his weight, until that reedy crying cuts out and he starts making snuffling sounds of satisfaction.

“Go to sleep,” Jackie whispers.

Shauna listens.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

She’s all alone when she wakes up next. Light streams through the window, making dust mites sparkle as they swirl. There’s chatter coming from the other room. It pounds against Shauna’s skull, intensifying the dull headache she’s been plagued with since Noah was born.

She digs her fingernails into her palms, trying to use the sharp sting to calm herself down. Jackie and Noah aren’t here. Shauna can’t see her baby, and she needs to make sure that he’s okay, she needs to hold him, she needs to keep him safe–

She’s got her legs swung out of the bed before logic has time to cool her panic. Standing up is agony; she only just manages to keep from crumpling to the ground. She sways for a second, legs shaking, before putting a foot forward.

The pain between her legs makes her see stars. Every step almost knocks her out. But she’s been in bed too long, and Jackie and Noah aren’t here, and she forces herself to keep walking. Right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot, until she’s out the door and into the kitchen.

Mari and Gen are playing a card game at the table, their hands slack as they tilt to look into the main room. Shauna hobbles forward, unnoticed, and the chatter grows louder.

“Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!”

Shauna stops dead. It’s Melissa and Akilah and Tai and Van, their voices easy against the sound of laughter, rocketing Shauna nine months into the past. The ghost of cleats tighten against her toes. 

Mari notices her first, her eyes going wide with an, “Oh, shit.”

Gen jumps up and hurries to Shauna’s side, helping her hobble into the main room. Everyone stills when they see her, something Shauna can’t classify dawning across their faces. They’re clustered in a circle on the floor, blocking Shauna’s view of whatever they were just chanting over. She thinks she knows what it is anyway. Nat stops bucket-shoveling the wall of snow against the door to gawk at her. Misty flies to her feet.

“What are you doing out of bed? Your stitches–”

“I’m fine,” Shauna waves her off, trying to bite back her anger. 

She’s alive right now because of Misty. Noah is alive because of Misty. It isn’t fair to be so frustrated over her hovering.

“Where’s my baby?”

Jackie shifts to the side from where she’s sitting, her legs tucked under her. Shauna’s baby is on the floor, his tiny butt in the air, his little limbs scrunched close to his body beneath a onesie Frankenstein-stitched from the arms of Jackie’s varsity jacket. He’s awake but silent, his eyes unfocused.

Shauna steps forward again, pulling Gen with her as Misty flutters around them. She can’t hide her wince as she settles down at Jackie’s side and lifts Noah into her arms.

“Why was he on the floor?” she asks, and the others smile.

“Tummy time,” Akilah says, “We, uh, I used to do it with my nephew, for a couple minutes a day. It’s supposed to help him get strong. We were cheering him on.”

She grins at the baby. Shauna surveys his floppy head, his fragile neck, his tongue poking in and out of his mouth. His eyes catch hers for just a second before flicking around again. Strong. Not likely – not that it matters. Shauna can be strong enough for both of them, as long as he’s surviving.

How overwhelming, her love for this one person.

“What’s his name?” Melissa asks, her whole torso tilted towards them. “Jackie wouldn’t tell us.”

Jackie slots her pinky into Noah’s wrinkly hand. His fingers can just barely close around it.

“That seemed like a you thing,” Jackie shrugs, the jerky movement offset by the warmth of her expression.

The jealousy scorching Shauna’s stomach eases a little at that. Jackie may be the one playing with her son, holding him, introducing him to everyone – but she knows that he’s Shauna’s. In this one thing, Jackie knows when to back off.

“It’s Noah. Noah Daniel.”

“Sadecki?” Mari calls from the kitchen.

Jackie’s face pinches, just a little, and Shauna turns to glare at Mari.

“Shipman,” she says, firm.

“I like it.”

Shauna looks back around to find Natalie, at the edge of their circle after abandoning the door, staring down at them. She seems awed, uncertain, afraid in the face of the infant. Shauna gets it. She feels like she needs to wash him every time she holds him; he’s so clean, and she’s so filthy. She doesn’t want to stain him. She doesn’t want whatever disease has taken root within her to sow seeds in that bed of innocence.

“Like the arc,” Nat continues, “And the lion’s den.”

The others gawk at her, amused. Her brow furrows, that wall rebuilding itself as she pulls her eyes away from Shauna’s son. 

“What? I went to CCD.”

“Remember Ms. Rosetti’s teeth?” Van asks.

She’s closer to her old cheerfulness than Shauna has seen her in months. Nat actually snorts, a genuine smile cutting across her cheeks. Lottie smiles, too, tangibly girlish. It’s been so long that seeing her present feels more unnerving than watching her slip off into madness. Seeing her snicker with Nat is more alien than familiar. It’s nice, though, in an aching sort of way.

It can’t last, of course. Natalie goes back to throwing herself into shoveling, trying to push out of the snow. It’s a sobering reminder of where they are, and how little they have to eat. How nothing they have to eat. They gave Shauna the last of the meat yesterday. She pulls Noah closer. If she runs out of milk…

She won’t. She won’t let that happen.

“Thank you,” she murmurs to Jackie.

Jackie smiles back, shy but certain. She’s gaining confidence, Shauna notes, and has absolutely no idea how to feel about it.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Shauna wakes up in broad daylight, and the cabin is silent.

She dreamed something strange. Lottie and Jackie, pushing and pulling. She’s given enough already. But that doesn’t matter now, in the gaping emptiness.

There’s nobody to help her as she stumbles through the kitchen this time. The panic is all consuming, white hot. Where are Jackie and Noah, she needs them, where the fuck are they, it thrums in every too-fast beat of her heart, JackieNoahJackieNoahJackieNoah–

They’re outside, in the snow, in the cold. 

Nat is gone, and so is Coach Ben, and by this point Crystal is never coming back. But everyone else who’s still alive stands in a semi-circle before Jackie, her back to the woods, a bundle of bear fur in her arms. Shauna’s baby in her arms.

Jackie’s face is unreadable as Lottie speaks.

“–a gift,” she’s saying, “Hope. And we will protect him.”

“What is this?” Shauna says, because she can’t- she doesn’t-

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Jackie locks eyes with her as everyone whirls around, but it’s too late, Shauna is storming through the snow to get to Noah. She sinks up to her calves with every step, but the pain is nothing at all, because the wind must be stinging his skin, because he’s only ever been warm and they’ve just shown him what it is to be cold.

He’s crying, she realizes as she gets closer, his lungs trying to expel the cold. She gets close enough to see him, and–

There’s blood on his forehead. It’s bright scarlet against his skin, not yet dried to brown, thin and lined like fingerprints. It is fingerprints, Shauna realizes, layered and rounded at the edges, too big for his little face. Lottie is holding a wooden bowl. Van is sucking the pad of her thumb. Drops of red litter the blinding white under each girl’s feet.

She yanks him out of Jackie’s hands, clutching him close to her chest as he wails. She eyes the others wildly because she knew it, she knew they would pull some of this woo-woo bullshit, because they waited until she was asleep and then–

Jackie. Shauna remembers what she’d thought earlier, that Jackie had finally learned to respect something that was Shauna’s, and feels like the biggest dumbass on the planet. She trusted Jackie with her baby, because she’s her best friend, and look where it’s gotten her. All alone. Shivering in the snow, skin cracking, blood pouring from her legs.

(Jackie washed your legs, some small voice whispers, she’s been washing your sheets, she’s been watching your son – but it’s not enough)

“We’re just trying to keep him safe,” Lottie says, dark and sad and far away again. 

Shauna chokes on venom, her vision blurry with rage.

“I don’t give a shit,” she hisses, “What you’re trying. Let me through.”

Lottie steps aside, and the others follow her lead. Just like fucking always. 

Shauna pushes past them into the cabin, shushing Noah, and heads right to the fire. She pulls open her flannel and holds him close to the warmth of her heart, letting the bass of its beating soothe him. She heats up some water, checks to make sure that it isn’t scalding, and washes off his face.

She hasn’t changed out her rags, but she can’t bring herself to care. Let them see the blood on the wooden floor. Let them know who he belongs to – whose DNA runs through his veins rather than crusts on his forehead.

The others stream back in, glancing at her nervously. Not one of them tries to approach but Jackie. Not even Tai. It’s smart of them. With her baby at her breast, Shauna is ready to rip and tear and kill. She would now, if she trusted any of them to hold him.

“Shauna,” Jackie says, close to tears.

She stretches out a hand and Shauna knocks it away, clutching Noah close. Fool me once, she thinks, Fool me twice.

There won’t be a third time.

Chapter 18: it's okay to eat fish

Jackie and Shauna have kissed before.

Obviously they’ve kissed before. They’ve been friends since kindergarten. All girlfriends – girl space friends, they’re from Jersey, okay? – use each other for practice. And when Lottie brought out the bottle to spin at the sophomore sleepover, it would’ve been weirder to sit out than to peck each other on the lips.

And, sure, Jackie’s been thinking about those middle school kisses at least once a week since 1992. And, yeah, Jackie’s heart pounded and her stomach churned with butterflies and her brains turned to mush when they kneeled in the center of their teammates’ circle and briefly locked lips. And, fine, she sometimes wakes up uncomfortably overheated from dreams starring her best friend that could make Jeff’s secret stash of pornos look like an episode of Rainbow Brite.

But that’s Jackie. Jackie, so painfully in love with her best friend that even she couldn’t deny it by the first snowfall out here. Jackie, who felt nauseous every time Jeff stuck his tongue down her throat and actually puked after the first time she gave him a blowie. Jackie, who can’t stand too close to Shauna without losing the ability to breathe. Jackie, the dyke.

Jackie. Not Shauna.

Shauna doesn’t like girls. She didn’t really like the guys back in Wiskayok, but they were high school boys. Literally the most unattractive species on the planet. She used to sigh dreamily over the floppy haired poet man she’d meet in college, because even if she didn’t like those boys she’s into the general male half of the population. And if she wasn’t — if the entire world flipped upside down and flannels and Liz Phair were actually enough to make a girl gay, there’s no single way Shauna Shipman could ever have a thing for Jackie Taylor.

For a little while, after the moonlit moment that Jackie still can't convince herself wasn’t a dream, she had thought…well, maybe. But if there was ever even the slightest chance, Jackie blew it out of the water when she let Lottie baptize the baby.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Shauna won’t put him down.

Shauna won’t give him to Jackie, or Taissa, or anyone. She won’t sleep. She won’t accept the water that they bring her; she keeps dragging herself outside, the baby in her right arm, and shoveling snow to boil one-handed. She’s still bleeding, and the bags under her eyes are horrifying purple bruises on her grayed skin, and Noah is a jaundiced yellow and she won’t let Misty near him, and Jackie is losing her actual fucking mind.

And there’s no food. Nat caught one squirrel two days ago, the day of the baptism, and nothing since. Lottie convinced everyone to give it to Shauna, but they all know that it isn’t enough. Unless something changes, sooner or later, she’s going to run out of milk.

Jackie needs to be with them. She needs to hold Noah, she needs to help Shauna, like she needs to breathe. It’s unbearable. It’s everything. There’s nothing else left in her, nothing but Shauna and her baby, not while he’s crying and she’s hurting. Jackie can’t explain it – the physicality of it. The real, actual pain.

She tries to explain, over and over. She tries to tell Shauna how she just wanted him safe; how she bundled him up and cradled him close to keep him warm against the icy air. But Shauna won’t listen. It’s like she can’t even hear her. Shauna snaps at anyone who comes close. She watches from the corner with wide and wild eyes, deep darkness in the lines of her hollowed-out face, something feral in the glint of her white teeth. She’s completely paranoid, and Jackie doesn’t know what to do. How to apologize, how to get back.

She’s miserable. She’s drifting, desperate, helpless. She’s nothing without Shauna, which, duh, but this is a really shitty reminder. Their fight from months ago rings relentlessly in her eardrums – you’re so obsessed with yourself, I’m surprised you’re aware other people exist – and she wants to scream and scream. Because that’s so not true. Jackie’s whole issue is Shauna, her whole world is Shauna, her whole life is Shauna. And the baby, now. She didn’t let the baptism happen because she wanted to hurt Shauna, or stake her claim over him, or what fucking ever. She did it for them, because she does everything for them.

She tries to wear Shauna down, to push her out of silence. Jackie cries and pleads and comes back each time she’s pushed away. Shauna freezes her out, swipes at her with nails bitten sharp, shoves her ass on the wintery wooden floor – but Shauna won’t talk to her. 

Jackie curls up to sleep without blankets, in front of the doorway of the back room. She wakes up aching, her muscles weak from shivering, every time the baby cries. Shauna’s eyes gleam in the dark, and Jackie doesn’t say a word.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

“He’s mine,” Shauna finally snarls on the third day.

They’re alone in the kitchen, gray in the weak morning light. Jackie’s been begging Shauna to let her take the baby, to get some sleep, to let her explain. Shauna’s eyes have been sparking for half an hour. Now they’re aflame.

“You’re trying to take something that isn’t yours,” she continues, and the fire catches in Jackie.

For days, she’s been Shauna’s fucking doormat. She’s been hurt, again and again, and she hasn’t cared. But this – this hits too close to home. Jackie can’t just take this.

She laughs bitterly, not even caring if she wakes the others.

“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

Shauna’s eyes widen, and Jackie regrets it immediately. Things were so good between them, and she forgave Shauna weeks ago, and it’s mean to bring this up now. Even if it still hurts. Shauna’s actually talking to her, even if it’s harsh, and Jackie is making it all about herself again. Like she isn’t sorry. Like she’s right.

She’s about to apologize when Shauna laughs back. The sound is scraping, more painful than nails on a chalkboard.

“There it is. I’m the bitch, right? The backstabber. Because I fucked your stupid boyfriend.”

Jackie shakes her head, choking back a sob. She doesn’t want to fight. She doesn’t want to talk about this. She doesn’t want Shauna to admit that she isn’t sorry. She just wants to hold Noah, to watch Shauna sleep, to listen to their breathing. She just wants to go back to before, when Shauna was still pretending to love her, when she thought maybe–

But Shauna won’t stop. Shauna keeps going, something acrid in her voice, going straight for the throat and biting down deep. It’s just like that night, but worse, because they won’t send Jackie out into the snow this time.

“Fine,” Shauna says, “I fucked Jeff! But you fucked my life, Jackie. I am out here because of you. Because you couldn’t do anything on your own.”

Jackie can’t look away from Shauna’s lips. She can’t meet Shauna’s bone-dry eyes. She can’t speak.

“You’re pathetic, you know that?”

Those lips were so gentle, just a few nights ago, and softer than a poppy’s petals. Was it real? Jackie can’t remember. They’re tearing her to shreds now.

“You couldn’t let me have this one thing,” Shauna sneers, “You just take and take and take, because you need me. You’re nothing on your own, and you know it.”

Jackie knows it. Of course she knows it. But Shauna shouldn’t say it. Why would she say it?

“But guess what?”

Shauna’s voice is deadly soft now. She steps forward, unafraid, a savage triumph in the twist of her mouth. Jackie’s whole body tenses, frozen. But there’s no way to brace for what Shauna says next.

“I don’t need you. I never fucking have.”

Jackie really does choke now. She stumbles back, crying too hard to see. The baby starts to cry, and the sound claws at her skin, but she has to get away, she has to get out, she has to stop this hurting. She needs to sleep without dreaming.

She drags her blankets into the corner of the main room blindly, feeling just as small as Shauna believes that she is, and curls up tight. Sleep won’t come, though – just wave after wave of hopelessness, until Jackie is well and truly drowning. The others get up and mutter at her. She remembers the dirty looks. All these months, and she’s probably brought them right back. Not that she cares to check.

She really is pathetic. Just a couple words from Shauna, and she’s completely defeated. She couldn’t even fight back. She hadn’t even felt the righteousness, the bitter betrayal that drove her to spite and confrontation. It’s not fall anymore. Jackie survived the snow. But Shauna proved her strength in labor, and Jackie is proving her weakness now.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

The baby won’t stop crying. 

Noah’s been relatively quiet so far – fussing when he’s hungry or needs to be burped, but otherwise he mostly just sleeps. Mari grumbles about it like always, and Melissa looks pained, and Gen sticks her fingers in her ears. Jackie doesn’t worry. She stays on the floor, her eyes shut tight. Shauna will feed him, or change him, and he’ll be fine.

But he isn’t fine. The crying keeps going, turning desperate.

And then Shauna calls for Akilah.

Jackie sits bolt upright at that, ignoring the way her head spins. Shauna hasn’t let any of them near her in days, not even Misty and Akilah. If she’s calling for help…

Something is wrong. Really, seriously wrong.

Jackie stumbles up and into the kitchen, grabbing a panicked Akilah as soon as she leaves the back room.

“What is it?” Jackie demands as the door slams shut, mind whirling, “What’s wrong?”

Akilah looks to Misty, her dark eyes wide, and Jackie realizes that they’ve all crowded into the kitchen.

“It’s…It’s her milk,” Akilah whispers, distraught, “It’s not coming.”

Jackie can’t breathe. She got tackled hard once, junior year, when they lost States. The wind was knocked completely out of her for a whole minute. She lay on her back, gasping for air, grasping Shauna’s hand. Jackie couldn’t swim underwater for the whole summer after, because every time her chest got tight she would panic. She was humiliated; she couldn’t get over such a small, stupid thing. She couldn’t even control her own body. She never even told Shauna, although of course she figured it out anyway.

This is that: the pain, and the panic, and the lack of control. But this isn’t small or stupid. This is the biggest deal in the world. This is the world. This is Noah.

Somehow, she finds herself staring at Lottie and Lottie staring back. Lottie nods at her, just the slightest dip of her head, and the air rushes back into Jackie’s lungs.

Shauna’s words don’t matter, she realizes. Jackie believed them, and it almost killed her, but they aren’t important. Because Shauna was wrong. She does need Jackie. They both do.

And Jackie won't let them down.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

“No,” Nat says, horrified, “Fuck no.”

“I’m not asking for permission,” Jackie shoots back.

She’s pulled Nat, Tai, Van, and Misty into the kitchen and shooed everyone else out. They stand in a semicircle before her, white light from the window bleaching them out. Lottie stands at her side, silently supportive.

“It probably won’t even be worth it,” Misty pipes up, “And with the risks involved…”

“You could heal her,” Lottie says.

“Bullshit,” Nat says, “We’ve been unbelievably lucky so far, but this is beyond fucking stupid. It wouldn’t even be enough.”

“Shauna’s starving,” Van agrees, her face hard with grief, “This won’t fix it.”

Tai stands silent behind her, hands over her face.

“It will,” Lottie says with quiet confidence, “We won’t be hungry much longer. Jackie needs to do this.”

“I am doing this,” Jackie corrects, “I’m doing this. Are you going to help?”

“Like hell you are,” Nat snaps, “Look, I’ll go out right now if you want me to. I can find something, alright, I can–”

“You can’t,” Tai says, “It has to be now. He needs to eat now.”

Her expression is hollow. Nobody fights her on it, not even Nat, because she’s right. They all know it. There’s no other choice here.

“Akilah thinks it might be a stress thing,” Misty says thoughtfully, “And if we were really careful about it…”

They can’t possibly be really careful about it, not out here. They all agree anyway.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Jackie’s in shorts already, so all she needs to do is strip off her socks and lay on the table. She’s shocked to find herself unafraid as Nat and Lottie grab her arms. They’re right, she knows. There’s almost no chance that this will be enough to work. But at least she’s trying.

They give Jackie her own belt to bite down on. She got it with Shauna, she remembers, the summer before freshman year. She had to let it out a loop last year. Her clinical, hawk-eyed mother noticed right away.

What would her mom think of her now? Tai and Van lean their full weight on her legs as Misty turns away from her little pile of boiled cloth bandages. Akilah hovers at her side, biting her lip. Travis, Mari, Melissa, and Gen stand guard against the door to the back room, nervous and uncertain.

“You don’t have to do this,” Nat says.

Jackie looks up to find her crying. Natalie Scatorccio, a softie. Who knew? The whole team, ever since freshman year. She was always a team player. Jackie liked it when she came to parties, even when she was completely faded. She’s so grateful that she’s here now.

“Yeah,” Jackie answers, “I do.”

The first cut isn’t so bad. Jackie stops her scream after just a second. Misty is careful to stay shallow, to apply pressure immediately afterwards, to stitch evenly. Jackie can hear herself crying, and feel Van struggling to hold her in place, but it’s not as bad as the time she broke her ankle during practice in middle school.

The second is agony. Misty’s knife is fire, licking straight down Jackie’s leg, flaying her open. She sobs and writhes and spits out the belt so that she can scream loud enough to shatter glass. There’s a pounding coming from deep in the cabin, like someone is bloodying their fists against a wooden door, and a bellowing rage. Or maybe it’s just her heartbeat. She sees her friends’ faces like they’re underwater, swimming and dancing around her.

“I can stop,” Misty says, her voice strained like it was during Shauna’s labor.

Jackie shakes her head, moaning. No. No. She has to try. She has to give as much as she can, everything she can, she has to–

The third cut makes her black out. The fourth pulls her back into reality.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

“Eat it,” Jackie whispers.

She’s in the back room’s bed, carefully bandaged over the sheets stained straight through with Shauna’s afterbirth. Shauna is crying at her side, furious. Everyone else is giving her a wide berth; Lottie and Mari cleared the room with a black eye, a chunk of hair pulled out, and two nastily split lips between them. Shauna’s fingers clench into a fist around Jackie’s palm. Noah is nestled into a carefully folded blanket at her chest, worryingly silent.

Mari cooked the carved up strips of Jackie’s left calf. In another life, Misty would’ve made a fantastic Butcher. The smell of the stew makes Jackie’s mouth water, and she almost pukes at the thought.

She doesn’t regret it, though. Jackie’s leg is still on fire, and Misty says that she’s feverish, and she’s pretty sure she might die about it in the next few hours. But seeing Shauna next to her right now?

Jackie would saw off her right leg all alone, if it meant Shauna would keep looking at her like that.

“How could you?” Shauna asks, brokenhearted like she’s the one sick and bleeding on the bed.

“Eat it,” is Jackie’s only answer.

Shauna shakes her head, sick. Jackie forces steel into her voice.

“Can’t be worse than fucking my boyfriend.”

Shauna huffs out a shocked, twisted laugh. She strokes away a strand of hair matted to Jackie’s forehead.

“Feels like it is,” she murmurs.

But she picks up the bowl. And she eats.

The milk comes half an hour later.

Notes:

Alright listen. I've agonized over this being unrealistic for literal months, but you know what? It serves my narrative, and it's dramatic, and it's twisted, and I think it works. Also, this is a Yellowjackets fanfiction, so I'm giving myself a pass. Chalk it up to wilderness magic if it's really bothering you - but hopefully it isn't!

Chapter 19: nothing's gonna harm you

Jackie’s leg isn’t infected.

Misty keeps telling her that she’s so lucky! because it isn’t infected. It’s been a few days and the fever is already dying down, and Jackie can still feel her toes even if she can’t wiggle them, and her filleted skin isn’t bleeding at all anymore. So lucky.

Jackie will never run again, not really, not the rhythm of her heart thumping and her feet slapping the grass, pushing her faster and faster, effortlessly powerful, her chest heaving, her cheeks sore from the spread of her grin, the ball flying between her feet. Not hard and fast and in control. Not strong.

Nat made her a crutch to match Coach Ben’s, but Jackie hasn’t been able to get up and use it yet. Shauna’s been helping her hobble over to the pee bucket and out into the woods for number two – Jackie tried to ask someone else, because Shauna’s still messed up from labor, but Shauna refused to let any of them close. So it’s just been the three of them, Jackie and Shauna and Noah, holed up together in the back room.

They haven’t been talking much; Shauna’s voice is tight and her temper is quick to flare up, although Jackie feels pretty forgiven. She’s able to hold Noah again, and help Shauna feed him from her bleeding nipples, and Shauna is even willing to sleep fitfully next to her.

That’s lucky: Shauna’s milk, Shauna’s forgiveness. That they’re both alive, and Jackie can hold them. She doesn’t even care about running, she tells herself. It doesn’t even matter. They’re the only things that matter anymore.

“You can’t do this every time we fight,” Shauna says the third day after.

Jackie is laying above the covers of the bed in the back room, Noah sleeping scrunched up on her chest, the left leg of her pants rolled up so that the fabric won’t brush against her bandages. She’s supposed to be napping –  Misty has them all sleeping through the middle of the day, to conserve energy. Shauna’s the only one who Jackie fed, so the rest of them haven’t eaten anything but Akilah and Mari’s boiled pine needle and bark mash in two weeks. It’s getting bad. It is bad.

Randomly, Jackie keeps thinking of the homeless guy who used to stand on the corner of Belmar and Monmouth. Still stands there, she guesses, not that she’ll ever see him again. He was always carrying this sign: THE END IS NEAR, shaky red lettering against creased cardboard. He was nice, though, when Jackie and Shauna drove by on the way to school. He’d wave at them, and around Christmas time he wore a beat-up green Santa hat. Shauna gave him change whenever they got held up at the streetlight, and sometimes Jackie handed over her granola bars. She hadn’t wanted to look at him, she remembers, and hadn’t thought about him all day except for when they pulled up to that intersection.

Now she wishes she’d stopped to talk, because he was right all along. The end was near. Or maybe it hasn’t happened yet, and it’s about to. Whatever.

It would be nice to escape from the pain, just for a moment, but Jackie can’t sleep. The cold lives inside of her now, gnawing on her bones. She isn’t even hungry anymore, just hollow. Her leg aches and stings, burns and itches.

She’s dying, for real this time. Cuddled up next to Shauna, her face buried in her best friend's neck, she wonders if they’ll eat her. 

Jackie wouldn’t mind, she realizes absently, as long as it helped Shauna and Noah. She would’ve, a couple months ago, but now she almost hopes that they do it. She wishes she could watch them grow – see Noah’s legs stop bending at the knees and start toddling around, hear his first words, feel his arms wrapped around her once he gets big enough to know who she is. She’d like to know what Shauna will look like as an adult, with wrinkles and gray hairs like Mrs. Shipman. But it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to get them there. And, like, it’s definitely happening, so it might as well be on her own terms. It might as well be useful.

It might as well be Shauna. Jackie imagines herself bare before her best friend, frozen perfect, Shauna weeping grateful tears over her beautiful body. And then she remembers the scabbed scars where her toes used to be, the months-old brown stain of poison ivy on her right thigh, the occasionally-oozing Frankenstein stitching all around left calf, and makes a mental note to have Shauna promise to wear a blindfold or something.

“What do you mean?” She asks, and Shauna tucks her chin over Jackie’s greasy hair.

“You keep scaring me. Whenever I get mad at you, you...”

She gestures at Jackie’s bandaged leg. The snow falling outside the window tracks polka-dot shadows down her sharp, soft face. They used to stay out in the cold for hours, to sled and make snowmen, because there was always hot chocolate and warm blankets waiting for them inside. Jackie is dying, and Jackie is in love with Shauna.

“Sorry,” she whispers, and Shauna shakes her head.

“Stop pretending like you aren't pissed at me.”

Jackie isn’t, really. She’s just tired. But…

“You freeze me out,” she says, “You never talk to me. That’s not fair, either.”

Shauna huffs, her shoulder jutting against Jackie’s neck. Jackie doesn’t have the strength to brace herself for another fight, but that’s okay, because Shauna readjusts to pull her closer rather than pushing her away. An easy quiet settles between them, the room silent enough for Jackie to hear the tiny puffs of Noah’s breathing.

This is how it always is, after a bad fight. It was a little less life-and-death before they crash landed out here, but it didn’t feel like that. It was always death and destruction and guilt and grief, and then forgiveness so easy it made the whole argument feel ridiculous. The total calm that came from knowing that they hadn’t lost each other, couldn’t lose each other, because they wouldn’t be themselves on their own.

They don’t play in the snow anymore. But Shauna tangles her fingers in Jackie’s hair, laughing under her breath when Jackie’s exhale tickles her neck. And Jackie is still in love with her. So some things never change, even in the cabin from hell, even in the Canadian wilderness, even when the end is officially near.

“Why did you give Noah to them?” Shauna finally asks, and Jackie frowns even though she can’t see it.

“I didn’t. It was– Lottie wanted us to give of ourselves for him, or whatever. They just wanted to, you know, feel like they could keep him safe.”

“Sure,” Shauna says, her voice tight, “But why? I know you don’t believe any of it.”

This is it, Jackie knows. This is her chance to go out really, officially forgiven. She’s never been good with words like Shauna, but she’s got to make these ones count.

“You remember the night I slept outside?”

Shauna’s nails dig a little deeper into the blue flannel over Jackie’s arms. She snorts, or maybe chokes, and Jackie takes that as a yes and keeps going.

“None of the others were on my side. And, I mean, I’m over it. But…You’ve seen it, right? Mari is always pissed at Nat, and Van and Tai keep fighting, and the only reason nobody’s upset with you is because of the baby.”

“They froze you out because you weren’t helping,” Shauna interrupts her.

Jackie shakes her head at the frown in Shauna’s words. She rubs her thumb against Noah’s tiny back, the cloth rough under her fingers. He’s so, so small. Her fingers brush his neck and her palm reaches his upraised butt. He’s warm, though, like a little space heater.

“It was more than that,” she says, “This crazy shit matters to them. Like, they totally buy into it. They’re all in, and you keep pushing them away, and I know how that ends. I just– I just wanted to keep him safe. I promise.”

Shauna’s muscles tense under Jackie’s cheek.

“You should’ve asked me,” she says.

There’s a lot underneath that. Jackie can hear her anger, and feel her panic, and she knows that Shauna is holding herself back from saying something incredibly bitchy and totally true. But she isn’t saying it, and that matters. That means she doesn’t want Jackie gone.

“I know,” Jackie says honestly, “I’m really sorry, Shipman.”

Shauna’s breath hitches, her chest stuttering out against Jackie’s side.

“Me, too,” she sighs, so soft Jackie isn’t entirely sure she heard it at all.

“I can back off,” Jackie says, fingers spasming around Noah, “I know he’s yours.”

Shauna is quiet for so long that Jackie’s terrified she’ll agree, that she’ll say, That’s right, psycho, he’s mine, selfish bitch, you can’t have him. It would only be fair, really, after everything. And it’s not like Shauna hasn’t said so before.

“No,” Shauna finally says, and tears prick at Jackie’s eyes instantly, “I mean, yeah, I don’t want you pulling shit like that without talking to me, but I shouldn’t have said that. I can’t– You know that I can’t do this alone.”

Jackie nudges her nose against Shauna’s collarbone, too weak to stop herself. They should probably pull apart for this conversation. They should probably pull apart, period, but Jackie can’t really remember why.

“You’re not alone. Together, right?”

“Right,” Shauna smiles, pressing her cheek against Jackie’s hair, “How about this? I talk to you, and you listen to me. Okay?”

She makes it sound so easy. Jackie pulls her right hand away from Noah, stretching it to reach Shauna’s, and links their pinkies together like a little girl.

“Pinky promise,” she whispers, warm all the way down to her bones

Shauna tightens her grip, pressing the sides of their hands together.

“Pinky promise,” she echoes.

They’ve broken promises before, a million times, but Jackie can’t worry about that right now. They won’t have the time to go back on this one anyway.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

The quiet settles between them again, for long enough that Jackie starts to doze off. Her eyes fall closed like her lashes weigh forty pounds, and her thoughts go quiet. For a while, maybe two minutes and maybe two hours, it’s just Shauna’s pulse against her forehead and Noah’s sleepy snuffling in her ears. It's not such a bad way to go, really.

She’s jerked back to reality when Shauna sits straight up, bouncing Jackie’s head into open air.

“Fuck this,” she huffs, and throws off her blankets.

“What–”

But Shauna is already stalking through the doorway, her footsteps booming over the muffled snoring sounds coming from the main room. Jackie is left with a whining Noah, alone on the bed.

“Wake up!” Shauna demands from the main room, “Get up!”

Jackie pulls herself up as the others grumble and groan, biting her lip to quiet the moan of pain that’ll bring Shauna running back. She fumbles for Nat’s crutch and stands up without help for the first time in three days.

The pain nearly knocks her out, but she clings to Noah and forces herself to stay upright until the room stops swaying. The first step has her seeing black, but she takes another. She’s uneven on the crutches, but she keeps pushing. Another. Just like Coach Martinez’s worst drills, under the burning August sun, just like when Tai puked in the middle of the field. Jackie used to be an athlete, a star, a fucking champion. Another. Another. Another.

And then she’s in the main room, Noah crying for real in the crook of her right arm. Shauna rushes to her side, her big brown eyes swimming with apology, and helps Jackie over to the seat by the fire. Tai and Van stumble into the room, Van yawning.

“What the fuck, Shauna?” Mari asks from the ground, scowling.

Shauna stands next to Jackie’s chair, her arms crossed. But the anger and disgust and paranoia that’s been entrenched in her expression for weeks is gone now.

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry,” Shauna says, her voice steady like their JV captain’s, “And that we need to talk.”

The air of the cabin changes, in a way that Jackie will never be able to explain later. The girls on the floor go still. Lottie leans forward with bright eyes. Van stands up a little straighter, something heavy settling on her shoulders; Tai, hand intertwined with hers, is blank with confusion. Nat’s boots stomp up the porch stairs outside, made louder by the rifle strapped to her back. Misty, in the shadows of the corner, begins to spread her lips into a smile.

Jackie presses her lips against Noah’s fine dark hair, breathing in his baby smell. Jackie is dying. Shauna forgave her. Shauna promised to talk. Jackie wants to live.

They all want to live.

Chapter 20: surrender to your darkest dreams

The others are all staring at Shauna.

They’ve been staring at her for days and weeks and months, with wide eyes and open mouths. She sees them in her dreams, aching, reaching, ravenous. They want her, she knows, and she used to believe that she knew why.

But now, in the light of what feels like the first day since her son was born, Shauna sees something different in their faces. It’s the hungriest hope that she’s has ever seen, and for Shauna rather than her baby. They’re starving for him, too, obvious in how they glance at him and half-smile, but not literally.

Maybe Jackie was right. Maybe they do just want to keep him safe. Shauna isn’t totally willing to find out, but she can’t keep shutting them out.

She came out here for Jackie; Jackie, unnaturally quiet and quicker to end an argument than ever before. She’s given up, content to snuggle up with Shauna and wait for death, and there’s absolutely no way Shauna is letting that happen. She can’t lose her best friend. But now that she’s really looking at the rest of what used to be her team, with a little more blood in her body and hours of sleep under her belt, Shauna knows that she needs to do this for them, too.

Natalie comes into the cabin empty handed, a sigh of disappointment billows through the room, and Shauna’s resolve steels. She’s not letting Jackie and the baby die, not after everything, and there’s no food coming from Lottie’s precious wilderness. If they want to live, they’re going to have to take matters into their own cracking hands.

“What did you want to talk about?” Akilah asks, cautious, and Nat immediately looks to Lottie.

Shauna stalls out for a second. She has a really fucked up idea. How can she explain without sounding like a monster?

Warmth laces through her fingers, tingling up her arm. Shauna doesn’t need to look down to see that Jackie has taken her hand. Shauna squeezes it, steadying herself, and speaks.

“This can’t be it. We need to do something.”

The others deflate a little at her apparent lack of a plan. Nat snorts, bitter and broken.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Mari says from the floor, her arms wrapped around her knees, and Jackie answers with a quick, “Hey.”

Mari’s face is still bruised up, mottled yellow and purple all around her left eye, her lip split and swollen. Shauna did that to her, for Jackie, and she’d do it again. That and worse. She lets the imprint of her violence push her forward.

“Look around you,” she says quietly, “We’re starving. All of us. Even me, even the baby. If we don’t get food, we’re dead.”

“And?” Tai asks, her voice even tighter than her pinched expression.

Shauna takes in a breath, but Lottie interrupts before she can even begin.

“Take me,” she breathes, her eyes shining with something spiritual, the pattern of her bruises blooming halfway to beautiful.

We hear the wilderness and it hears us. Shauna shivers, understanding immediately, and tries to imagine being that ready to die. Everyone else rustles around her, uncertain, as Jackie’s hand spams in hers.

“It’s alright,” Lottie smiles down at them all, Laura Lee’s dress hanging off her body and the midday light beaming down on her dark hair, a saint in the flesh, “You’ll be alright.”

“What are you talking about?” Van says, her voice hard.

“You know,” Lottie says, looking to Shauna.

Shauna nods back at her, stunned. No, she wants to say. No. This isn’t what I meant. This isn’t…

“No,” Mari blurts out from the middle of the group, “No, Lottie, we need you.”

Lottie shakes her head, beatific.

“You don’t. Not anymore. You can hear it now, I know that you can. You learned to feel the Wilderness. And I–”

“No.”

It’s Misty, speaking from the corner. Light glints off of her glasses as she lifts her curly head. She looks like she did with Shauna’s blood on her fingertips and forehead. Misty fucking Quigley, crazy fucking bitch, the weirdo on the sidelines, keeping them all alive.

“You’re wrong,” Misty says evenly, “The Wilderness won’t let you die. And neither will we.”

Lottie blinks at her, the light fading from her eyes as her head whips around the room. Nobody is willing to take her up on her offer, not even Nat. Not even Shauna. Lottie staggers down onto the seat and sits in silence.

“So, not Lottie,” Shauna says, “But we need some…some way to stay alive.”

No one misses the way that her voice falters. Spines straighten, shoulders tilt forwards. There’s a line that Shauna is toeing here, one that they’ve only brushed up against. She isn’t sure if they’ll want this. But she’s hungry. Jackie’s hungry. And so are they.

She shuffles to the side in an attempt to hide Jackie’s sliced-up body, hushing Noah when he whimpers. 

“We could…” Melissa stops to clear her throat before continuing, “We could let the Wilderness choose. So that– I mean–”

“How?” Akilah asks in a whisper.

There’s a pause as they stop to think, darting glances at each other. Are you doing this?  Shauna looks at Jackie, confused, and Nat, horrified, and Tai, thinking.

It’s all very high school, very follow the leader, very hive mind. Are we doing this?  This isn’t the plan. But it feels important, it feels like everything, and so Shauna lets the quiet linger.

“The cards,” Van finally says, “We could pull from the deck of cards. There’s only one queen.”

Panic jolts through Shauna at the thought; the randomness of it. The lack of control. It could be any one of them, if that’s what they decide on – Van or Tai or Jackie, Jackie, Jackie.

“I’m sorry,” Jackie’s voice is high enough to be grating, “What the hell are you talking about?”

Shauna can’t look at her. Tai’s the one to answer, worn and distant.

“Like the law of the sea. Pulling straws.”

The silence returns. Shauna can see the others weighing their fear against their hunger. Considering the odds, considering their friends. They used to be a team. They’re starving to death. Shauna knows what will win out in the end. Nat shakes her head from the corner like she’s breaking out of a trance.

“No. No fucking way, right? Guys. This is insane, this is bullshit, we can’t–”

“We can’t,” Shauna agrees, and eight heads swivel towards her.

She thinks of what Jackie said, a few hours ago. This crazy shit matters to them. This isn’t the debate team. Pathos, ethos, logos, none of that means anything out here. If she wants them on her side, to keep Jackie safe, she needs to give them what they want. She needs to appeal to the crazy.

“We don’t need it to choose one of us,” she says.

Tai frowns, her eyebrows pulling together in confusion. Shauna can see the exact moment where she understands, bringing a hand to her mouth.

“Coach Ben,” Shauna says.

The name travels through the others like a ripple in water. It feels like poison on her tongue, and Jackie is gripping her hand hard enough to hurt, and Travis is shaking his head from the corner, but she needs to keep going. She’s in too deep to back out now, and it’s the only way to be sure.

“He won’t eat. He didn’t, with…Last time. He’s already made the choice. He’s turned his back on the Wilderness.”

She’s met with silence. The others shift, uncomfortably anxious, and suddenly Shauna understands. This isn’t just about survival. It’s about accountability. If they don’t choose, they don’t need to carry the guilt of it. They want the blood to stain the Wilderness’ imaginary hands, so that they can pretend it isn’t coating their own.

Shauna doesn’t have that luxury. Shauna has a baby, and she’ll do whatever it takes to keep him safe, and she was forced to face that months ago.

She finds herself looking at Akilah, their gentle girl scout, the kindest of them all now that Laura Lee is gone. If anyone can see reason, it’s Akilah; and if Shauna can win one of them over, she might be able to sway the rest. It’s just us, she wants to scream, It’s always going to be just us.

But they’re not listening. They can’t face it. Van’s mouth presses into a stiff line, and Shauna knows that she’s lost.

But then: “Shauna’s right. It has to be him.”

Lottie speaks with her head down. Her tears glisten on her bruised, blotchy cheeks. But something shifts. They’re listening to her. Van nods, just once. Gen and Melissa link hands. Misty swipes angrily at her cheek.

Shauna expected more of a debate. Back-and-forth bickering, Nat storming out, Lottie praying for guidance. Instead, the quiet calm of agreement settles among them. Nat slumps down next to Lottie, head in her hands, as Travis backs out of the room. The rest of them discuss for a little while: how are they going to do this? Who is going to do this?

They decide to tell him when he comes back to the cabin. Tonight, probably, or tomorrow. He’s been suicidal for months, wandering the woods overnight, waiting for death. Nobody’s sure how he’s made it this long. They almost never see him eat. They’re sure he won’t put up a fight. And he’ll be saving them, won’t he? He’ll be a hero. He’ll be taking care of them, like he was supposed to from the very beginning. The only adult to survive the crash. Shauna speaks and Lottie backs her up, and it’s settled.

And then all that’s left is to wait.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Diaper changing is Shauna’s fourth to least favorite thing about being a parent.

The first is definitely the physical pain; the burn when she pees, the cracked skin of her nipples, the ache that pounds throughout her entire body. The second is the constant exhaustion that comes from waking up every few hours to feed him. She’d give almost anything for bottles and formula, but it’s just her out here, and she needs to be there for Noah whenever he cries, and so she hasn’t slept for more than four hours straight in over a week. The third is the terror, paranoia like she’s never felt before, the bone-deep horror of having her beating heart exposed to the Wilderness. She doesn’t have the freedom to worry for herself anymore; it’s Noah first now, all the time. They don’t have enough food – how will she feed him? It’s so cold – what if he gets sick? They’re all alone – how can they take care of him?

The fourth, though, is the diapers.

Akilah taught Jackie how to change him when Shauna was still knocked out from labor. And then it was all Shauna, for those three days after the baptism when she wouldn’t let anyone else close. She’s absurdly grateful that she and Jackie have made up, because she was sick of changing diapers. He’s only a week old, and she’s already had enough of it for the rest of her life.

It doesn’t help that they’ve been using cloth rags in place of disposable diapers. Or that Noah absolutely hates being cold, and wails through the whole process.

They have him laid out on the table, Jackie using the needle to stitch some cloth around his tiny butt. She’s got infant piss on Shauna’s blue flannel, which she seems to have stolen for keeps, because Van’s peeing teepee is essentially useless. Jackie’s been quiet for almost an hour, which is unnerving enough that Shauna’s about to start pushing.

Finally, Jackie drops the needle and lifts Noah up to her chest, closing her eyes to breathe in the top of his head. He carries her DNA now, Shauna thinks fondly, the nutrients from Jackie’s skin flowing through her milk and into her son. It’s fitting, really, considering that he wouldn’t exist without her. In some ways, he’s even more Jackie’s than he is Jeff’s.

Shauna’s still seething over Jackie risking her life for them. But she’s also grateful beyond words. Seeing Jackie hold Noah close, as if she loves him as much as Shauna does, is like standing under a ray of springtime sunshine.

It’s not like he’s theirs. It’s not like Jackie could ever really want that, or want Shauna in that way. But this is close enough.

“I can’t do this,” Jackie says, and Shauna snaps back to reality.

Jackie is rocking back and forth, clutching Noah like a lifeline, her hands trembling. Shauna reaches for her, but Jackie flinches into herself like a wounded animal. Shauna stills, her hand dropping, and forces herself to stay calm.

“What do you mean?”

Jackie inhales shakily and leans into Shauna, letting their shoulders brush. There’s a smear of shit running from her pinkie to her wrist.

“When we– When we did what we did, before, it was an accident. Or, you know what I mean. It wasn’t on purpose, or premeditated, or whatever. We were on autopilot, right? And Javi was- gone. But this…”

Shauna braces herself for it. She knew that this would happen. She knew Jackie would see her as a monster, as something festering and ugly and selfish. But for the first time in her life, she doesn’t care. She just wants to keep them alive.

“Shauna,” Jackie whispers, “This would just be us. I mean, we’d be doing this. Actually. To Coach Ben."

Us. We. Shauna can feel herself bristling, but the pronouns are general enough to keep the cruelty tucked away under her tongue. Jackie isn’t trying to accuse her of anything. She’s not angry, just sad and scared and desperate. And nothing good comes from fighting with Jackie, especially not out here.

"We have to, Jax," she says, and she means it.

"I can’t," Jackie sniffs, crying now, “I want to live, and you and Noah need to, but this– I can’t–”

Shauna cracks completely open, shifting to wipe the tears from Jackie’s sharp cheekbones.

"That’s okay,” she croons, and Jackie shakes her head. “Hey, it’s okay, alright? We’re not asking you to. Just take the baby upstairs. Just keep him safe. That’s all we need."

“I’m sorry,” Jackie sobs quietly.

And, God, what have they become? Shauna pulls Jackie into her arms, letting her stain the worn red flannel shirt. Jackie is apologizing because she can’t kill their coach. She used to be so pissed at them, their normal captain, their queen bee, so incandescent with righteous rage. This is so much bigger than shoving girls in closets and howling at the moon, but Jackie’s already folded. If Shauna didn’t already know it, this would be proof: Jackie loves her. Maybe not in the way that she wants, but really and truly.

Shauna means what she promised. Jackie won’t have to join them, or to see it, even if the others try and judge. Shauna can’t take this last thing from her, not when she’s already taken so much. All Jackie will have to do is eat.

They stay like that for a moment, Jackie’s tears soaking down onto Shauna’s shoulder, Noah sandwiched between them. It’s broken up, like it always is, by a voice from the main room.

“Hey, guys?” Gen calls, hoarse, “Where’s Travis?”

Chapter 21: alive is in command

Notes:

SO sorry for how long it's been since I last updated, please take this monster of a chapter as an apology. Also, I'm studying abroad rn, so future updates are probably going to be pretty erratic. But I'm very much not done with this story!! Please lmk what you think :)

Shauna won’t be able to remember that first hunt.

It’ll come back to her in unpredictable fragments for the rest of her life, and she’ll never quite be able to piece them together. Heart pounding, legs pumping, sprinting like a fucking champion. The pain of it; how her stitches strained, how her body ached and burned; how the branches clawed at her legs, the air tore at her skin.

Shauna never really liked soccer, and after that hunt she’ll finally understand why. Being an athlete is the palest shadow of being a predator. The rush of a goal is nothing but scraps compared to the ecstasy of a kill.

They hunt at twilight. With Travis gone, Coach Ben might scurry into whatever hidey-hole he takes shelter in when he’s away from the cabin. They all decide it’s better to brave the night than lose him completely. They run together, yipping, snapping, fearless. A team.

For months, Shauna’s been grubbing in the mud and gnawing on bones. It was the plain existence of a prey animal — pain and hunger and dirt and cold and fear, relentless fear, always fear. But then Shauna has a knife in her hands and a pack of savages at her back, torches lighting the deep dark woods, girl-voices gone shrill into screeching bird calls and guttural howls, and Coach Ben knows the woods better but he’s all alone and one leg down.

That’s what Shauna will always be haunted by: the power. The promise of euphoria, the high she’s been chasing since that first night with Jeff, that first cut of the knife, that first Doomcoming howl, that first taste of poor little Javi, that first time she held her living son in her arms. The feeling she’s been craving since she was thirteen years old and felt Jackie’s thumb against her lips, rubbing in cherry lip gloss, and Shauna almost bit down over the chemical sweetness on the tip of her tongue.

She’ll find out later that Nat was the first to find Coach Ben and Travis. He totally warned him, Mari will hiss, but Nat refuses to give any of them proof. Not that it matters. They corner Coach Ben by the hollow stump that Tai will lead them back to the next day, and he has matches in his hands.

He doesn’t beg, like some of the others will. He doesn’t cry, though he does shake hard enough that Shauna thinks he’ll tip over.

“You chose,” Lottie whispers, “Elles ne…”

Delicate flakes of snow melt in the light of the torch she’s clutching. She sounds like she’s about to cry. She sounds weak, and Shauna feels the others hesitating around her. She can’t let that happen.

“The wilderness is choosing back,” she says, taking a step forward.

The knife is slippery in her palm. Now that she isn’t running, she can feel the blood dripping down her legs. Coach Ben stares at her, suddenly seeming closer to her age than the grown-up he’s supposed to be. Even Shauna falters then.

He was kind to her, before all of this. He brought baby oranges to practice and made sure Coach Martinez gave them water breaks, and he cheered loud enough to cover the absence of Shauna’s father when they won States. Coach Ben was steady. He cared.

But then he speaks.

“It’s not worth it, Shauna,” he says, slow and steady like he’s trying to calm a rabid dog, “It won’t matter.”

He talked like that to the referees at one of their junior years games. Shauna got a red card for some bullshit reason, and the whole team was in an uproar. She tried to explain herself to the ref, and then Jackie rushed in all sweet and Tai stormed over incredibly pissed off, and he wouldn’t listen to any of them. But as soon as Coach Ben stuck up for her, the call was discarded. Shauna was allowed back into the game, penalty-free.

“Rescue isn’t coming. This is only the first winter.”

Coach Ben was always listened to. Randy Walsh quit tossing crumpled-up notes at Shauna’s head in Health when Coach Ben huffed at him. Coach Martinez could be facing mutiny from the entire Varsity team, and he wouldn’t let them stop drilling until Coach Ben intervened. When the enraged father of a girl on the opposing team got all up in Nat’s face and the whole team stood behind her, it was Coach Ben who he backed off for.

But now he’s outnumbered. And Shauna’s the one they’re listening to. Shauna’s the one with the knife.

“What do you think this will accomplish? You all fucking eat me, right? That’s the grand plan? Th- Then what, huh?”

Shauna feels the others pressing closer behind her, their hearts catching in anticipation. His voice is cracking now, his speech stuttering.  Fire flickers brighter on his trembling lips. Her hand shakes and shakes, the knife glinting strangely in the torchlight.

“Natalie,” he begs, “Natalie, please–”

Snow crunches under Nat’s boot as she steps away. Coach Ben is layered in a sheen of sweat. He stumbles back as if he’s been shot in the chest, his weight falling onto his crutch.

“None of this matters! I die, sure, oh, God, I die, so what? It won’t let you survive, not forever. You kill every last one of us, and your baby still fucking starves! You think you’re keeping him alive? You think that’s taking care of him? You can’t–”

It’s exactly like cutting into an animal, only warmer. Steam rises from the squelching, gurgling red. A clean cut. She’ll wake up sweating when she’s seventy years old, if she makes it that long, and won’t be able to blink away the slight scratch of stubble. He’s still shaving. He was still shaving.

Warmth dots Shauna’s face. Travis keens, once, and then gasps silence back into his lungs. Nat shudders, but she doesn’t sob. Lottie whispers sorry, so soft it might be the wind. When Shauna turns back to the others, straight-backed, crimson heat engulfing her trembling hands, they’re not looking at the body. They’re looking at her.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Jackie’s still up in the attic when they get back to the cabin, Coach Ben strung up around a stake on their shoulders. Shauna locks eyes with Jackie through the dark and the glass, and feels like half a girl again. Her body thrums with it.

See me. Look at what I did. Love me.

Jackie clings to Noah as she cringes away from the window. A hot sickness builds in the base of Shauna’s throat. For a moment, she is so disgusted by herself that she wants to die – but she chokes it back down, lets it settle in her stomach like scorching coals. She is selfless. She’s feeding them, and they love her for it. They have to.

They leave the body outside with her. Mari gags at the thump of his body against the crude boards of wood, and Akilah sniffles through her tears. Tai stumbles into the cabin like she’s sleepwalking, Van’s fingers curled around her wrist.

Shauna doesn’t close her eyes, not when she knows that this is for her son, for Jackie, for her family. She keeps herself steady. She doesn’t puke.

Coach Ben is softer than Javi. He shouldn’t be, because he was an adult and Javi was a child, but he wasn’t frozen when they found him. He was violently alive, breathing and ranting and shaking in the cold, and then steaming hot all over Shauna’s hands, and he’s cooled now but he’s still soft like life as she saws into him, like Noah’s scrunched-up little legs, like somebody’s child, and is is was and was will never be is again, and Shauna is keeping herself steady–

They must be grateful to her now, she thinks with human meat under her fingernails. They must respect her. How could they not, after this sacrifice? Who else is willing to do what she is, to keep them all alive?

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

It’s still dark when she finishes. Flickering light beckons her through the cabin’s windows. Come inside. See it done.

Her clothes are frosted over, and snowflakes melt in the corners of her eyes. Every movement is painful, but she loads up a platter. Brain, heart, guts, meat for waiting mouths. She stores the rest away carefully. None of this can go to waste, not after all they’ve given up to get it. The tray wobbles and she rights it carefully, for her baby, for Jackie, for Tai, for every girl huddled together in that little house of wood.

They stand when she comes back in, uncertain, saliva gathering in the corners of their mouths. Their faces are dirty, and their nails are cracked, and their hands are bloodless, and their chests are heaving, and it’s all because of Shauna.

She hands off the tray to Mari, but her arms can still feel the weight. She ignores it and heads right over to Jackie, who’s got her back pressed to the corner. Noah sleeps on her chest, her hand holding his head and her hair falling over his little shoulders.

Jackie’s eyes go wide as Shauna gets closer, her whole body tensing. Shauna’s heart quakes, and she almost turns away, but then Jackie rushes to meet her.

“Are you okay?” Jackie asks, her voice high and laced with panic.

The beat of confusion passes as soon as Shauna remembers the blood drying absolutely everywhere on her body; crusted in her hair, smeared over her eyelids. No wonder Jackie can’t hide the tears in her eyes.

“I’m fine,” she reassures Jackie.

She goes to touch her, to pull her and the baby close, but her hand freezes in the air. Jackie’s hardly clean; her hair is wild, her gaunt cheeks smudged with grime. But she isn’t covered in blood. And Noah, well, he’s perfect. Pearly pink and completely innocent. Shauna can’t be the one to spoil that.

Jackie catches her before she pulls away, though, grabbing her filthy hand and gripping it tight. Shauna almost collapses at her touch. She’s about to confess to everything, all of it, but–

But. But. A sizzling sound fills the room, and there’s meat cooking. Jackie swallows hard, and then gags so violently that Shauna’s hands fly to catch Noah. Lottie sinks to the floor and stares blankly at the wall. Nat crouches down next to her, swiping furiously at her cheeks. Melissa and Mari watch the flames, entranced, while Gen and Akilah pretend that they’re playing cards without crying.

And they want it. They all want it, even more than they want to be rescued. They want it now.

“You should be ashamed,” Travis says, so hollow that even Shauna cringes.

She’s not ashamed of herself. She can’t be, not with Jackie and Noah still breathing next to her. But with the smell of food, and the watering in her mouth…

“Well, I’m not,” Van says, her smile twisted.

Travis glares at her, his horror sharp with judgment. She’s all out of jokes now, their witty goalie. She used to be so funny. The dykes and the bulls hurled through the hallways always glanced off her shield of sarcastic smiles and strategic taunts. She even got the seniors to crack up, way back when they were awkward little JV freshmen.

Now she says, “I’m not ashamed, Travis. I’m glad I’m alive. And I don’t think any of us who are still here should ever be ashamed of that. Ever. We owe that to Coach Ben. To all of them.”

Misty is nodding, her blond mop of curls bobbing in the corner. Jackie’s nails dig into Shauna’s wrist.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

The Wiskayok Yellowjackets huddle around a crackling fire, shoulders hunched over their bowls. In this light, they could be at a reunion. Some winter break bullshit from Lottie’s dad, a team getaway at a cabin in the Catskills. They were never that close, though. And their changes can’t be chalked up to a semester spent getting plastered at frat parties and cramming for final exams. Their angles are sharp from starvation.

Shauna gets a chair. Jackie sits on the floor with her knees hugged tight, her back against Shauna’s legs. They all look to Lottie for a blessing, knuckles white around their bowls.

“The wilderness,” Lottie starts, and then stops. Shakes her head.

“I never wanted this,” she croaks, raw and real, and Shauna desperately wants her to shut up.

“None of us wanted this. How could…how could we? That’s what I keep asking myself. But– It’s–”

“It’s like Van said,” Shauna cuts in quietly, and watches the heads swivel to her.

“It’s keeping us alive. This is what the Wilderness chose. This is what we needed. What he needed.”

She nods to Noah, bundled up in Jackie’s arms. They had to change him while the food was cooking. He’s awake now, but quiet. He’s been such a good baby, never fussing unless he needs to. She’ll feed him once she’s fed herself, because she has to feed herself to feed him. She’s not a girl, not a killer, not a monster. She’s a mother. And she doesn’t regret any of this.

“Thank you,” Shauna tells all the girls watching her, nudging her toes under Jackie’s leg, “I’m sorry that it took me so long to say. But thank you.”

And then she pulls out a hunk of meat, and bites down.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

They don’t eat the meat. They devour it.

All the girls chew ferociously, filling the cabin with the wet gnashing of teeth. All except for Jackie, who holds Noah in one arm and steadies the bowl on her knees with the other. Her head is bowed so that Shauna can’t see her expression, but she can guess how wrecked her best friend is right now. Still, she doesn’t stop to check on her. She can’t stop, not with drops of flavor on her tongue.

It’s good, is the thing. The meat is the best Shauna has ever had; even better than Javi. Rich and tender and juicy, so much that she has to lick and suck at her mouth to keep any of it from dribbling down her chin. She bites back moans of satisfaction to keep the others from thinking she’s clinical.

They all finish in minutes – all, except for Jackie. Everyone turns to stare at her, red around their open mouths, eyelids low like they’ve entered a trance.

“Hey, if you’re not going to eat that…” Mari tilts forward.

Shauna glares her down, but it doesn’t do much good. Gen sucks on her fingers as Melissa licks her lips.

“Eat it,” Shauna says.

Jackie shakes her head, wordless, tears streaming from her red-rimmed lashes. Shauna puts down her empty bowl and gets down on her knees, ignoring the low ache of it. Jackie’s eyes are huge and finally, finally trusting, glimmering in the glow of the fire.

“Take it,” she whispers, holding out her bowl to Shauna.

Shauna reaches down again, pulling out a strip of singed muscle. Jackie’s eyes close. She thinks that Shauna is going to eat her food.

Instead, Shauna grabs Jackie’s jaw and pries it open, forcing the meat inside and then ramming it closed. Mari screams. Jackie chokes, gagging against Shauna’s palm. Nat jolts forwards, and Shauna whips to stare at her.

“Take Noah!”

Nat hesitates, but obeys. Jackie gives him up willingly, but her hands scrabble at Shauna’s wrist. She’s too weak, though, from hunger and fever and exhaustion, and Shauna won’t let go. She slams her body forwards until Jackie is writhing on the ground, trapped under Shauna’s legs, pinned by her weight. Jackie swallows, retches, and swallows again. Shauna keeps her hand clamped over her best friends’ mouth.

“Are you going to eat the rest?” Shauna asks.

Jackie shakes her head, coughing, crying. I can’t.

So Shauna picks up another piece.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

It takes forever to get the whole bowl down. Jackie starts eating on her own, under careful supervision, after four more chunks. She swallows back everything that comes up, too, even though she’s twitching and sweating and wretched. Shauna tries not to burst into relieved tears when the last bite is swallowed.

They clear the bowls away, and then there’s nothing to do but watch the flames. It’s still dark outside, but nobody feels like sleeping. Jackie passes out almost immediately, curled up against Shauna on the threadbare little couch. She takes Noah back from Nat to feed him, marveling at his contented little noises, his tiny tufts of dark hair. Shauna did this. She made him, and she’s keeping him alive – whatever it takes.

She was so terrified about failing at this. She doesn’t have whatever magical mom instinct makes having a kid perfect and painless. But what she did today proved her love for him, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

She still has plenty of chances to fuck it up. But for the first time in a really long time, she feels good about herself. About her ability to love someone, truly, without poisoning them.

“Hey, Van?” Akilah asks, “Could you tell us a story?”

She sounds like she’s been whittled down to the bone. She sounds like a little kid. The others chime in with suggestions – comedies, fairy tales, rom coms. Happy endings. They’re heartbreakingly hopeful, like maybe, just for a little while, they could be somewhere else. Someone else. Like they could live a different story.

They can’t, though, and even Van seems to know it.

“What about something you haven’t heard before?”

Her voice is different. Powerful. Shadows dance across her scars, deepening the black of her pupils. Despite their exhaustion, everyone straightens up a little to listen. Jackie sighs in her sleep, hot air blowing into the crook of Shauna’s shoulder.

“Once upon a time, there was a place called the Wilderness. It was beautiful and full of life, but it was also lonely, and violent, and misunderstood. So, one day, the Wilderness built a house. It waited. Summers came. Winters came–”

“I can’t be in charge anymore,” Lottie interrupts abruptly.

Van freezes, frowning. Her eyes dart to Tai.

“It chose me,” Lottie says, “I think, because…because I was the only one who knew how to listen. But I– I can’t hear it. Anymore. I think, um, that’s because it doesn’t need me anymore. You all learned how to hear it. To feel it.”

She locks eyes with Shauna, and Noah detaches from her breast. He whines, just a little, and Shauna rubs his back without looking down.

“Maybe…Maybe what it wants for us now is a leader who can help us survive, for the rest of the time we’re out here. And that isn’t me.”

“Lottie, no,” Mari says, clearly panicked, “You’re wrong. We need you.”

Lottie smiles a little.

“The Wilderness chose who fed us. It’s already chosen who should lead us.”

She’s looking at Shauna.

Shauna, of the flannels and books and Liz Phair. Shauna, who stood on the outskirts of the gym and watched Jackie be picked for Prom Queen and Homecoming Princess and Spirit Star at every single dance. Shauna the second-best, Shauna the shadow. Nobody ever looked at her before. But they’re looking at her now.

Jackie squeezes her hand. Shauna blinks down to find her awake, her fractured eyes glowing again. She opens her arms without speaking, and Shauna passes over Noah.

Lottie beckons her to the front of their little circle, the fire hot on her back. Lottie smiles again, brighter than Shauna has seen her since Noah was born, and kisses her on the cheek before sinking into an honest-to-goodness bow. Shauna barely has time to nod before Lottie floats down to take a seat before her.

Shauna stands there for a horrifying heartbeat of silence. What if, even after everything, they deny her? What if they laugh? She can feel milk swelling in her chest, dripping from her nipples, and is almost crippled by the image of the stains. She feels ridiculous.

It’s Jackie who stands first, Noah tucked against her chest. With her soft pride and split-open tenderness and sunken cheeks, she looks like an ancient devotional. Madonna in the flesh. She stands before Shauna and smiles a perfect Jackie Taylor smile, the one that always clicks into Shauna’s memory like a picture that can’t ever wear away. She takes Shauna’s hand and drops something warm into it.

It’s the necklace. Jackie’s golden heart, shining in the first light of dawn. Shauna gave it back before because it was too heavy, too suffocating, but now she curls her fingers around it and laughs through her tears as Jackie pulls her into a hug.

Her vision is swimming by the time Jackie drops to her knees before her. Shauna takes her hand and gently pulls her back up.

The others follow, each one swearing fealty in bows and curtsies and looks of love. The antlers on the wall cast shadows over their bodies. Tai, Van, Melissa, Misty, Akilah, Gen, Nat, Mari, Travis. They see her. They love her. They are grateful. They chose her to lead them. They trust that she can.

And Shauna is Queen.

Chapter 22: rat in a cage

Jackie won’t eat.

Well, okay, she is eating. But not much. She always scrapes half of her food into Shauna’s bowl, and she picks at the rest while the others slurp down their stew. Nobody complains when she tips what’s left of her portion back into the pot, to be carefully divided into equal spoonfuls. Nobody but Shauna.

It’s not because Jackie thinks that the other girls are monsters, even if Mari keeps shooting her simmering glares. And the feeling is apparently reciprocal; they all seem to be pretty okay with her these days. Jackie noticed it after she gave up her skin for Shauna and Noah, but now that she thinks about it they’ve been semi-liking her for weeks now. She isn’t useless anymore: she went to the plane with Nat, and she helped out with chores while Shauna was pregnant, and she’s been making all of Noah’s baby clothes and taking care of him as much as she can.

Also, she pretty much shut up about all the howling at the moon shit after that night in the snow. God knows she didn’t put up a fight about Coach Ben. Going to Lottie’s meditation sessions probably didn’t hurt, either. She’s one of them now, and Shauna’s at the top of the totem pole. It’s a shockingly welcome relief.

But anyway. Jackie won’t eat.

It’s not because she doesn’t want to. Shauna thinks so, Jackie can tell, but for once she’s in the wrong. Jackie won’t eat because of how much she wants to.

The thing is, she’s been doing really well lately. She loves Shauna and the baby, and for the first time in her life, that’s completely enough. Jackie isn’t purposeless anymore, not now that she has Noah. Shauna’s been crowned Queen of the Wilderness, or whatever, and Jackie is here to support her – which so far just means watching the baby while Shauna organizes chore charts and balances their rations.

She really wants to live. She wants to stay with them. But their supply of freeze-dried Coach Ben bacon is already running low, and the others have been glancing at that deck of cards for days.

Jackie can’t set someone else up to get hunted just because she wants a bigger chunk of meat in her stew.

Of course, Shauna won’t accept that. She confronts Jackie about it for the umpteenth time on the sixth day after the hunt, while Jackie changes Noah’s diaper on the bed in the back room.

“You’re wasting away, Jackie. You think I can’t see it? You’re sick, and starving yourself is so not the way to get better. Don’t you want to get better?”

Jackie just barely manages to throw a towel over Noah’s tiny waist before he starts peeing all over her shirt. She pulls a face at him as she waits it out, and he rewards her with a gummy grin. Shauna is momentarily distracted as they coo over his cuteness, beaming together in mutual understanding that they won’t bring up the fact that Akilah said that newborns’ smiles are just from gas.

Jackie tries to capitalize on the moment by deflecting.

“I didn’t see Erica Thompson eat a single thing for, like, all of junior year. And she’s fine.”

Shauna levels Jackie with a look. Her attempt at levity is totally blown by the fact that Erica Thompson had teachers to call the ambulance when she passed out during third period gym, EMTs to jam an IV into her arm on the way to the hospital, parents to pull her out of school and get her into a mysterious treatment facility, food and food and food that built back her strength before senior year.

All that’s left between Jackie and death are the scraps of Coach Ben in the shed.

She pulls the towel off of Noah cautiously and then, when she makes sure that he’s finished peeing, peels the soiled cloth off of his back. She scrunches her nose at the smell, trying to show with her eyes that she loves him very much but can not open her mouth to reassure him right now.

“I am eating,” she says once the diaper has been passed off to a thoroughly disgusted Melissa, careful not to inhale.

“Not enough,” Shauna shoots back.

“Oh, like any of us are. Look, I’m eating, okay? I know it’s not much, but I am.”

“You passed out yesterday!”

Jackie rolls her eyes, bending forwards so that Noah can yank on her choppy hair while she ties the diaper as tight as can possibly be good for him.

“Not for long. Come on, Shipman, as if you haven’t been sleeping through the night.”

Shauna falters, hurt, and Jackie wishes she could actually snatch her words out of the air between them. Noah’s been sleeping like a rock since the hunt, knocked for what must be eight straight hours and still willing to nap for a bit during the day. The first morning after, when Jackie opened her eyes to sunlight and realized that his crying hadn’t woken her once, she was so terrified that he was dead she couldn’t even move. It was Shauna who leaned over the bed to check on him in his makeshift crib, her pulse jumping under Jackie’s hand around her wrist, woken up only because of how stiff Jackie had gone in her arms. When Shauna laughed, utterly relieved, Jackie had sobbed so hard she almost puked.

Akilah told them that babies need milk every few hours, and that if they let him sleep for so long without eating he could become even more undernourished. Luckily, none of them can manage to sleep for more than a few hours at a time – none of them, that is, except for Shauna. She keeps passing out while Noah breastfeeds, leaving Jackie to hold Noah up to her chest and keep him awake.

Jackie didn’t mean to give her shit for it; she actually loves that part of the night. She loves knowing that she’s helping Shauna rest, and keeping Noah fed, and watching over both of them. She loves the sound of their breathing, the feel of their warmth in the dark of the night.

“Sorry,” Jackie cringes, “I didn’t mean…”

Shauna shakes her head like she’s flicking water out of her hair. Jackie’s golden heart necklace glints over her sunken collarbone, the point of it caught in her sweatshirt. When she speaks, she speaks softly.

“You need food, Jax. I need you to eat. For real. Please”

Jackie is inexplicably relieved not to have the heart’s weight around her neck anymore. She was scared, for a second, that Shauna would give it back to her again; but Shauna took the necklace, and the kiss on the cheek, and the universe righted itself. Shauna needs her. Shauna said please. And all she wants from Jackie is to chew and swallow.

“I will,” Jackie says, “I will, I promise.”

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Dinner has become something of a ritual since Lottie crowned Shauna.

Shauna still butchers the meat; everyone watches as she passes the tray over to Mari, the heap of food piled atop it shrinking every day. Mari still cooks it, mixing in the pine nuts and needles and bark that Akilah harvests with Gen. Melissa still serves it.

But now, when they take their seats, Shauna sits in a chair at the head of their little semi-circle. Nobody eats when they get their food. They wait. They watch.

Lottie stands first, like always. She spoons her biggest chunk of meat into Shauna’s bowl, smiling her thanks. Jackie jumps up next, eager to scrape half her food into Shauna’s bowl – but Shauna pulls away at a quarter. Jackie frowns, but takes her seat against Shauna’s legs.

The others follow one by one, offering up the best bit of their meal without hesitation. They bow their heads for Shauna and look at Noah with reverence, reaching out to stroke his silky hair. Jackie blinks back tears, unspeakably grateful for the love in their eyes. Even if it’s been weird to see them treat him like their god of the wilderness, born into Shauna’s baby.

When Travis, the last and most sullen of them all, returns to his seat, they all look to Shauna.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, her voice heavy with their sacrifice.

Her head bends forward just a little under the weight of their trust. Jackie remembers the weight of being captain, the burden of responsibility that Coach Martinez hammered over her shoulders. This is so much bigger, and Shauna bears it so much better.

She finally raises her spoon to her mouth. Chews. As soon as she swallows, the others tear into their food.

Jackie’s heart hammers as she looks down at her plate. She promised. She promised Shauna that she would eat. She’s already given some of it away. If she doesn’t eat it now, someone else will.

It’s different when it’s one of the others. It’s not as wrong. But Jackie promised, so she lifts her bowl to her lips. Bite. Chew. Swallow. Bite. Chew. Swallow. Bite. Chew. Swallow.

It takes her an age, and Shauna has to watch the whole time, but Jackie manages to get it all down. There’s a beat of silence when they finish – Is that all? The answer is always yes. Yes, that’s all. Yes, you’re still starving.

Van tells them a brief story, something about deep dark woods and little girls and teeth and claws, and then dinner is officially over.

Gen takes the bowls away, and then the night shifts to Jackie’s favorite part of the day – Noah time.

They lay him out on layered blankets in the main room for tummy time. He’s three weeks old now and getting a teensy bit bigger every day; he’s just started to focus on their faces, and he can lift his wobbly little head up for a few seconds, and he waves his arms around more. He doesn’t do much of anything else, except for eat and shit, but he’s primetime TV out here. Melissa and Akilah bicker over who gets to give him their finger to hold, and Nat and Van place bets on when he’ll be able to roll over, and Misty talks over them with frightening developmental statistics that everyone does their best to tune out.

Jackie sprawls out on the floor next to him, so that he doesn’t feel alone under everyone else’s eyes. She distracts him from his discomfort with the misshapen rattle that she made from a stick and little pebbles and stitched-together bark. It’s a total choking hazard, but he seems to like looking at it; it can hold his attention for longer than anything else, except for music.

Eventually he loses interest, though, and it takes all of the girls belting the lyrics to Shoop to keep him quiet through the rest of his time on his stomach. They sink back into old locker room habits immediately, wide smiles cutting across their hollow cheeks.

Gen and Melissa and Mari actually get up and dance, jumping around the room like it’s still August and the Walkman never died. Jackie scoops Noah up to bounce him in her arms, looking at him seriously as Akilah yells, Brother, wanna thank your mother for a butt like that! Van wiggle-dances in her seat and Tai laughs her way through, Don’t know how you do the voodoo that you do. Lottie giggles as she makes a shotgun motion at Nat during, If looks could kill you would be an Uzi. Nat rolls her eyes as if she isn’t screaming along with the rest of them. Shauna smiles, wide and true, and crashes against Jackie’s side.

Jackie couldn’t be higher if she’d eaten every one of Misty’s mushrooms. She leans against Shauna, so strung out on happiness that she’s willing to acknowledge the way it seems to set the entire left side of her body on fire. She cradles Noah to her chest and thinks, for the millionth time, Thank you.

She doesn’t notice until the very end of their song that Travis is in the corner, fiddling with the box of matches.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Everyone’s back to miserable by the next morning. Noah usually helps lighten the mood – Shauna’s been letting the others take turns babysitting, as long as they follow Akilah’s strict steps for avoiding infection. But he’s weirdly miserable today, making nonstop grizzly noises that turn into full-blown crying when Mari tries to lift him out of Jackie’s arms.

Jackie attempts to soothe him by pacing the length of the main room, singing whatever pops into her head. Her parents weren’t exactly big on lullabies, and everything she listened to throughout high school is a blur of not-fit-for-baby-ears. So she falls back on oldies from junior high: Kris Kross and Whitney Houston, Madonna and Janet Jackson. Noah seems to like it, which is pretty much all the approval she needs right now.

Jackie’s starving and sleep deprived and covered in spit up. She can’t even tell what’s wrong with him – she has to restrain from flipping out every two seconds, because what if he’s sick? What if he isn’t eating enough? What if she’s holding him wrong?

She wishes that she had something more to offer Noah, something parental and protective, something adult. She sort of hates herself for not being better with him. But at least he’s alive, and relatively quiet. That has to count for something out here, right?

“If the groove don’t get you,” she sings, “The rifle’s gonna.”

Also, it’s seriously incredible to be able to comfort him like this, especially knowing that she’s letting Shauna sleep in the back room. It makes Jackie feel so needed, like what she’s doing is actually meaningful. Like maybe he loves her back.

Still, she wishes he would calm down. She had plans to try and clean out the cabin today, because she keeps worrying that the dirt and grime and ancient mouse poop piled up in the cracks and corners is, like, getting into Noah’s little lungs. And even though all the girls love him now, she knows that it’s probably pretty dependent on the fact that he’s been such a quiet baby.

Tensions are already running high, and he hasn’t been upset for long.

Nat and Mari are bickering again, which is only weird because Nat’s usually out of the cabin to hunt by now. The sun’s been up for what must be almost an hour – she’s wasting daylight.

“Quit it with the high and mighty crap!” Mari hisses, “As if you weren’t out there with all the rest of us.”

Nat laughs, loud enough that the others can stop pretending like this is a private argument. It’s a quick, jagged sound, packed with a shocking amount of venom. They’re at each other’s throats, and everyone is watching.

Jackie wishes that Shauna were here, but she isn’t willing to wake her up any sooner than necessary. Lottie would be good at diffusing the situation, too, but she’s sort of in dreamland at the moment. She’s huddled in the seat next to the window, flinching further into herself every time Nat and Mari open their mouths.

“You think I could ever fucking forget? That’s why I’m saying that we can’t–”

“We have to,” Van cuts in, her face hard, “Prepare for the possibility.”

Tai, sitting against the wall next to her, stares down at the floor. Nat shakes her head, brittle blonde hair stark beneath her dark brown roots.

“No, we don’t. You guys sound fucking psycho, alright? We still have stuff in the shed. And, look, I know I haven’t caught anything lately, but–”

“But what?” Mari sneers, “Are you gonna shoot some more bunnies? Provide for the family? We’re already down to scraps, and there’s nothing out there. It’s just us.”

“So, what, we’re just gonna start offing each other every other week?”

“Well,” Misty butts in, “If you can’t catch anything, and accounting for the exposure that we’re already suffering from–”

“Shut up, Misty!” Nat and Mari both wheel on her.

“Jackie,” Mari says suddenly, “Will you talk to Shauna about it?”

Jackie freezes, faltering when she finds everyone’s eyes on hers. She’s been running through Lottie’s grounding instructions since she realized what they were talking about, trying to keep from passing out with Noah in her arms. And now they want her to put this on Shauna’s shoulders.

“Sure,” she squeaks.

Nat collapses onto the chair, burying her head in her hands. Mari nods once, throws one last spiteful look at Nat, and then makes for the door.

“Wait,” Jackie says.

Mari freezes, then faces Jackie with her eyebrows raised. Nat looks up through red-rimmed eyes. Jackie clears her throat, bouncing awkwardly to try and quiet Noah’s wailing.

“Um. Look, you can’t do this. We can’t do this. It’s, like, really fucked up out here, and we’re…I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we kind of suck at this. And if we keep fighting, it’s gonna get even worse.”

She’s rambling, and she’s in way over her head, and she hasn’t even attempted to give a pep talk in months – not that she was ever good at it in the first place. But she can’t let Shauna try to deal with this alone. And Mari and Nat are looking at her, regardless of their narrowed eyes, so she keeps pushing through.

“We need to work together, okay? So…”

She scrambles internally for some way to make this better. Make them say something nice about each other? Not fucking likely. She tries to remember what worked when Allie and Mari refused to even look at each other for an entire month.

“So. Alright. Why don’t you think of things from each others’ perspective? Like, say one good argument for the opposite point of view.”

Nat laughs again, in total disbelief, and Mari scoffs. Jackie resists the ridiculously tempting instinct to go hide in the back room, laying Noah against her chest despite his quiet whimpering. She used to deal with this all the time. Not particularly well, but still. If she could hold Shauna’s hand through a day and night of labor, she can do this.

“Fuck off, Jackie,” Natalie says, completely drained of energy.

Jackie squares her shoulders and looks her straight in the eyes.

“No. Seriously, guys.”

Nat’s eyebrows raise, too, but she glances towards the back room. Mari does the same, then and squeezes her hands into fists.

“I get why Nat doesn’t want to," Mari sighs, "You know. I mean. It’s not like I do, either.”

She tries to stay casual, but her voice cracks open at the end. She won’t look anyone in the eye. Silence fills the cabin. And then.

“I get why you’re saying we should,” Nat finally admits, low with shame.

She looks like she wants to die. For a second, Jackie does want to die. Because this isn’t about Allie hooking up with Mari’s little brother. This isn’t high school. Unless Nat catches something soon, one of them will be dead within the week. Nobody’s said it. But everyone knows that it’s true. It's like they're all out of air, and nobody will comment on the fact that their faces are turning blue.

Still, though. The venom leaches out of Mari and Nat, and the room feels a little lighter. Van and Tai go back to their grim game of rock-paper-scissors. Nat grabs the gun and goes out to hunt, and Akilah gathers Gen and Melissa to go foraging.

Lottie studies Jackie, playing with the broken zipper on her fur jacket. Jackie pretends like she can’t see that Mari is crying in the corner, and Misty is red-faced at the table, and Travis is looking at the matches again. She needs to take a win right now, especially with Noah’s wailing.

Especially because of what she's about to tell Shauna.

Chapter 23: my belly stings

Shauna brings it up after dinner that night, while she’s breastfeeding Noah.

“There isn’t much left in the shed,” she says.

Her voice doesn’t tremble. She’s honest in the quiet, steely way that Jackie has always admired. Her calm helps; they all shift uneasily, jaws clenching and hands balling into fists, but nobody freaks out. Everybody listens.

“Humans can survive for two weeks without food,” Akilah says, small.

“Not with any kind of strength,” Misty shakes her head, “And Noah needs to feed every few hours.”

Jackie’s heart jerks a little. The image of Noah, starving, is so excruciating that she has to shove it away. She trains her focus on his little fingers over Shauna’s heart, poking out from under the bear fur, tiny and warm. Alive. Their baby is alive, and eating, and they’re going to keep him that way.

Their baby? No, God, she sounds like Lottie. Noah is Shauna’s, not Jackie’s. As the product of mingled Sadecki-and-Shipman DNA, he basically exists in spite of her. He isn’t hers, no matter how much she loves him, and Shauna would hate to hear her thinking otherwise.

“We could,” Lottie starts, and then clears her throat through the rasp, “We could give more to Shauna, right? We could eat less, and it would last longer. I don’t think…”

Too much I, too much think. Lottie’s influence comes from the wilderness, and even Mari is tuning her out as she speaks in her own voice. Jackie feels something bitter sting in her intestines. Who matters now?

“I won’t ask you all for that,” Shauna says quietly, “Unless you want to offer it.”

“We do,” Tai interjects.

Nat glares at the room through red rimmed eyes, Travis noticeably absent from her side.

“We do,” she says, “Don’t we?”

There’s a brief pause, but everyone nods along. Some are less enthusiastic than others – Mari is typically begrudging – but nobody objects. They also don’t point out the fact that at this point, smaller portions are basically just platefuls of nothing. But what sort of psycho bitch would offer her team up to slaughter just for a few more bites? Who would ever risk offering herself?

Shauna surveys them, eyes wide. Despite the twistedness of the moment, Jackie’s heart swells a little at her grateful nod. It’s sort of wonderful to see Shauna finally getting the appreciation that she deserves. Now that Jackie’s accepted how much they all hated her as queen bee, it’s weirdly nice to watch her best friend stand in the spotlight.

Of course, it helps that Shauna’s knees are jutting up against Jackie’s shoulders. It certainly doesn’t hurt that she seems to still want Jackie close; that she might have stepped out of her shadow, but she hasn’t stepped away from her side. Even now, out here, it feels right. Like maybe it should’ve been this way all along.

“We have until I run out of milk. If there isn’t any food out there, we don’t have a choice. Understand?”

She isn’t putting it to a vote. This, like Coach Ben, is all on Shauna’s shoulders. Jackie can feel the gratitude radiating up to the rafters; none of them want to admit that they want this. At the moment, they don’t care much for democracy – they’re just glad that Shauna’s admitting to the need. Wiping them clean, opening her hands for the blood and the blame.

Jackie tilts her head down, to where her hands are twisted in the hem of Shauna’s filthy flannel. There’s a world where she calls bullshit. Where she screams about how they’re all monsters and storms out of the cabin, righteous and terrified and sane like it’s still October. Where she tries to stop them, where she stops herself.

But that’s the world where Shauna, with sunken eyes and stretched-out skin, runs out of milk. It’s the world where Noah finally stops crying, and he never starts up again. It’s not a world that Jackie will let herself live in.

And Shauna told her to eat. So she’s going to eat.

“Do you understand,” Shauna repeats, soft.

She looks to each of them in turn, waiting for a nod or a sniff or a close of the eyes. There’s  a crackling moment of tension, and the hairs on Jackie’s arms rise from the static electricity. She realizes that they’ve arranged themselves down the lines of an argument – Nat, Akilah and Lottie to Shauna’s left; Van, Mari, Misty at her right; Tai, Melissa, and Gen in the middle across from her. Jackie is safely removed at Shauna’s feet, but she holds her breath. If they fight Shauna on this…

They don’t, though. Every one of them gives in. Jackie is last; Jackie holds Shauna’s gaze until she smiles, just a little, and then returns her attention to Noah.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

The next day, Shauna is the only one to get more than a morsel. Jackie surveys the others carefully for any signs of resentment as they nibble on their tiny bites of meat, but doesn’t find any. She would be reassured if she hadn’t totally missed all of them hating her up until a few months ago.

The day after that, Jackie cleans the cabin.

She’s been meaning to for weeks – all the filth can’t be good for Noah’s lungs, and he seems to have a hard time breathing in the cold anyway. Of course, she’s pretty exhausted, and their cleaning supplies consist entirely of dirty rags and a pine-needle broom. Nothing much is really accomplished. But it feels good to be doing something. Between her constant paranoia over the baby and the way Misty keeps thumbing the deck of cards in her pocket, Jackie really needs a mindless task to distract herself with.

She nearly quits when Noah wakes up from his midday nap, because it’s her turn to watch him. She knows that she could hand him off to literally any other girl in this cabin, but Jackie’s been spending less time with him since Shauna started trusting the others. They’re always in the same room, but she doesn’t want to give up time that could be spent holding him.

Luckily, Akilah pulls out a length of stitched-together cloth that used to be Laura Lee’s cardigan.

“My sister had a Snugli,” she explains, “So that she could carry the baby around and still use her hands.”

Jackie tries it on, slinging the fabric over her shoulders and triple-tying it around her waist. It’s frighteningly flimsy, and even once Noah is inside she keeps one hand on his butt, but it holds his weight for long enough that she starts cleaning again. She's so weak that even his featherlight weight is painful, but she's willing to deal if it means that she can feel the warmth radiating out of his skin.

She’s attempting to sweep under the table when Shauna and Tai come back in from gathering firewood. Tai goes to dump it by the fire; Shauna comes over to coo at Noah.

“You sure that’ll hold?” she asks, frowning.

Jackie shrugs, hoping that it’ll hide her nerves.

“Not really. But I won’t let him fall.”

She wouldn't, is the thing. Trusting herself is a weird and slightly unnerving experience – but it’s nice. Jackie might fuck up everything else in life, but she’ll die before she lets Noah get hurt.

Shauna chapped lips quirk up at the corners, soft and sure and honest. Jackie’s stomach flops like a fish on a beach. She wishes she could blame the starvation.

“Lottie?”

Jackie swivels to look into the main room, heart still fluttering, and sways on her feet as the rush hits her head. Lottie is standing beside the fireplace, her hand on the wooden wall, Van at her shoulder.

“Lottie,” Van repeats, “What is it?”

Lottie’s eyes are vacantly unblinking. Her lips twist in the shape of soundless words. Shauna gestures to Jackie – stay – and walks towards her slowly.

“Lottie,” Shauna says, gentle, “What are you doing?”

“Listening,” Lottie finally says in a faraway voice.

“What do you hear?”

It’s Mari who asks, Mari’s adoring expression, Mari’s utter faith in the deranged mumbling of a skeletal teenage girl.

“It’s been better,” Lottie mumbles, “Since our baby was born.”

Jackie bites back the instinctual Shauna’s baby, obeying Shauna’s orders. Stay. Let her speak. They all know that Shauna’s control here is delicate; openly challenging Lottie in front of her culty followers is a terrible idea. They haven’t been fighting lately, and they need to keep it that way.

Even if Lottie is being scary as hell.

“It loves him,” Lottie murmurs, “Like the wilderness loves us.”

Jackie watches Shauna’s shoulders tense under layers of fabric.

“What? What is it?”

“The wood. The walls.”

And then she jerks her hand back, blinking back into herself. Van rests a hand on her shoulder, and Mari guides her to a chair. Shauna watches with her arms folded over her chest as Lottie’s fingers brush the scar on her forehead.

“Want to tell us what that was about?”

Lottie shakes her head, strangely upbeat. She seems almost relieved. Gray midday light turns the edges of her dark hair silver as she half-smiles up at Shauna.

“Nothing. We should probably keep Noah inside.”

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Three days later, Van is changing Noah’s diaper on the table.

Everyone else sits on the floor watching - everyone except for Jackie and Shauna and Tai, who stand in emotional support. The pounding throughout Jackie's body is worth it to keep Noah from crying. Tai laughs as Van wrinkles her nose against the horrifying, orangey-yellow shit bomb trailing up his back.

“Nope,” Van says, “Nuh-uh. Not doing it. I avoided getting knocked up for a reason, thank you very much.”

“Thanks,” Shauna drawls from next to Jackie.

Van winks at her, then scrunches her face back into the picture of disgust.

“You’ve got to,” Tai grins, “The rest of us have all had our turn.”

Jackie nods next to her, beaming down at Noah just as he begins to piss on Van.

“Ugh,” Van spits, fumbling with the makeshift teepee, “You’re killin’ me, smalls.”

Jackie honest to God giggles, tilting sideways into Shauna. Tai fakes a gag and steps backwards. Van finishes wiping him with half-closed eyes, her body angled as far away from her hand as humanly possible.

It’s a nice moment. Not for Van, of course, but still. This morning was tough – Shauna’s milk was slow to come and quick to run dry, even when Jackie helped massage her boobs (which is not an experience she can afford to think about, including when she’s doing it). Everyone is aware of it; they won’t stop staring. Misty’s wearing her equipment manager jacket, and a rectangle juts out through the fabric of its grimy pocket.

The cards, the cards, the cards are calling. Even Jackie can hear it.

But right now, Jackie inspects Van’s diaper-changing job. Everyone cheers when she deems it acceptable, their grins wide enough to reopen the cracks on their lips. Tai pulls her in for a quick, celebratory kiss – Jackie busies herself with getting Noah back into his onesie, pointedly avoiding Shauna’s gaze.

“I’ll take him,” Shauna says when she’s done.

Jackie hands him off, trying to keep her breathing steady as the mood decomposes. He needs to eat again. Drink. Whatever.

She walks with Shauna into the back room, and Shauna pulls up her shirt to let him latch. Noah does easily, like always, but barely anything comes out.

“Come on,” Shauna mutters, “Come on.”

Noah breaks off to make this pathetic little whining noise, and Jackie steps forwards without thinking.

“Can I–”

Shauna’s jaw locks, and for a moment Jackie is worried she’ll say something horrible. But she just huffs and glares at the ground.

“Yes.”

Jackie’s heart starts up again, and she closes the distance between them. Kneading Shauna’s tit is absolutely not romantic, and she’d be completely clinical to get turned on by this, but still. Fire sparks against her palm, lapping up the length of her arm, the heat of it turning her cheeks red. She trains her eyes on Noah’s tiny tufts of hair, the impossible fineness of them.

They manage to get a little, but clearly not enough. Noah’s still crying when they finally give up, hungry little mewling like icicles piercing Jackie’s heart.

“Maybe we can try again in a bit,” Jackie says, voice small.

Shauna all but shoves Noah into her arms, yanking down her shirt.

“No. It has to be now.”

“What if–”

“No,” Shauna growls, “There is no what if, alright? It’s not working. It’s not enough. I can’t fucking–”

She’s trembling. Jackie didn’t realize it until just then. Jackie raises a hand, and Shauna’s teeth flash in the white light, but then Jackie is stroking Shauna’s hair and Shauna is shaking, shaking, shaking, like she’ll come apart right here in their little back room.

“I can’t do it,” Shauna whispers, and then pulls Jackie close and buries her head in her shoulder, “It’s not enough. I can’t do it.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jackie says, fiercer than she thought possible, gripping the back of her best friend's sweatshirt.

Shauna sighs, her breath quick to rush in and quicker to rush out. Jackie can feel it against her stomach, the air on her neck. Noah whines again and she knows Shauna’s right. They can't risk him any longer.

It’s time.

 

 

Notes:

Okay I'm SO sorry that this chapter is basically a load of nothing, but I wanted to get an update out before this weekend! Tune in next time (which should be soon) and I promise there'll be a little more action :)

Chapter 24: here i go, here i go, here i go again

It feels wrong to draw cards in the daylight.

Every other batshit thing they’ve done out here – holding their seance, tripping out on mushrooms, Javi, Shauna’s labor, hunting Coach Ben – it was all at night, in the dark. There’s something horrifying about the normal clarity of daylight illuminating their faces.

Shauna pulls the drapes closed, and Jackie nearly bursts into tears. They have the fire built high, and Mari lit some candles, but the shadows feel so much safer than the light.

They arrange themselves in a circle around a low little table at the center of the main room. The standing is strange in itself; they’ve mostly been avoiding it lately. Too much wasted energy. Jackie swallows a horrible bubble of laughter at the thought. Energy. That’s what they’re about to get.

Shauna takes her place at the head of the circle with Noah in her arms, like they’re about to eat dinner. Jackie wobbles next to her, shifting her weight, shoulders hunched, playing with the ends of her wildly uneven hair. None of them will look at each other.

Lottie shuffles the cards, head bowed as if it’ll hide the wet streaks down her cheeks. Her hands tremble as she holds up the Queen, the card they found on Javi's frozen body. The red of its ink is like blood in the firelight.

Jackie sways a little, but she forces herself to stay awake. She's alright, because Shauna and Noah are safe. They’re out of the running; everyone promised. They won’t draw. Shauna won’t draw. It won't be Shauna. It's not Shauna.

She didn’t know she had it left in herself to be afraid for her own life.

Lottie puts the Queen back in the deck and hands it to Misty, stepping back into place. Misty faces her, and it begins.

Misty pulls first: Eight of Diamonds. Safe. She shows it off to the circle, smiling. Peppy. Misty fucking Quigley, weird as hell. She’ll live to see another day.

Then Lottie: Ace of Hearts. Safe. She’s so out of it that Mari needs to nudge her in order for Lottie to let them all see.

Van: Jack of Hearts. Safe. She looks right to Tai, who breathes like she’s just come up for air.

Mari: Something of Clubs. Jackie can’t make out her card, but she’s clearly safe. She makes a little hiccuping noise, pressing the card against her chest.

Akilah: Seven of Spades. Safe. She closes her eyes, and Jackie can’t tell if it’s gratitude or regret.

It's like listening to one of Van's stories; like something that's happening to someone else, something that isn't real. She cuts her nails into her palm, deep enough to draw blood, deep enough to ground herself. They have to do this, for Shauna, for Noah. Don’t they have to do this?

Travis: Ace of Clubs. Safe. Natalie sighs as he looks over at her, eyes rimmed red. His fingers are stained with something; dirt, maybe, or soot.

Tai: Six of Spades. Safe. She nods to Van, who sends back something like a smile. Shauna shudders so slightly Jackie wouldn’t have noticed if she wasn’t just next to her.

Gen: Something of Spades. It’s blocked from Jackie’s view, but Melissa lets out an eerie, breathy giggle.

Melissa: Three of Hearts. Safe. She runs a finger along the back brim of her cap.

The cards are getting closer to Jackie; just Nat, and then her. Shauna’s fidgeting with the knife, turning it over in her left hand, cradling Noah with her right. Jackie wonders if the others can see how badly she’s shaking. She wonders if she’s shaking at all. It could be an earthquake, it could be the end of the whole fucking world, and it would feel just like this.

Shauna took her aside before, if there ever was a before, and said: I won’t let it be you. Jackie doesn’t want to find out what she meant. She doesn’t want to.

Misty comes to stand before Nat, and something cold clenches Jackie’s racing heart.

“Wait,” she says, her throat dry, “Wait. Nat’s the hunter. It shouldn’t be her, right? She shouldn’t draw. We- we need her, right?”

Nat blinks at her, eyes wet.

“No way,” Mari snarls, “It’s all of us but Shauna. We agreed.”

“Jackie’s right,” Lottie says quietly, but even Van is shaking her head.

“No. It’s all of us,” Van says.

Nat turns to Shauna, jaw squared. Jackie realizes with horror – she wants to pull a card. She doesn’t want to be out.

No, she wants to scream, no. Something is wrong. Something is wrong with this.

Shauna nods at Nat, and she pulls a card.

Nat: Queen of Hearts.

That's the Queen caught between her fingers, held aloft for all of them to see. Nat got the Queen. The roar in Jackie’s head gutters out. Nat got the Queen.

Nobody speaks. Van gasps, just for a second. Shauna stiffens. Jackie can’t get any air.

This is crazy. It’s Nat. Someone’s going to laugh, and then it’ll all stop, because this isn’t right, this isn’t, they can’t–

Nat is the first to move. A step towards the table. Shauna mirrors her, a step forward, two steps, three, and then they’re face to face in the center of the room. Noah is in Jackie’s arms, and she can’t remember how he got there. Nat doesn’t scream, but she’s breathing like Jackie’s never heard anyone breathe. She turns around. She turns around, and Shauna raises the blade to her throat, and Jackie thinks we sleep here, we live here, and then Nat is whirling around and staring Shauna down.

“You’re gonna have to look me in the eye,” she gasps, furious, lips trembling, face white and dirt-stained and tearless, so very Natalie Scatorrcio that it feels like Jackie’s the one dying.

She really does want to scream now, but she can’t, she’s frozen, she thought lived but she’s buried under the ice, the only warmth she has is Noah’s and he isn’t even hers, and Shauna is steeling herself and Jackie can see it in her shoulders, and the walls are tilting closer and dripping and bleeding and devouring them all and nobody else can see it, and Nat is looking at Travis and saying, “I’m sorry,” water finally streaking down her cheeks, and Shauna is pulling back her hand her knife her cracking red hand her shining silver knife, and then–

Travis breaks out of the circle and shoves Shauna to the ground, the packet of matches skittering across the floorboards behind her.

Somehow, that’s what shatters the frost encasing Jackie’s body. She lurches forwards, and Travis’ elbow flies into her jaw. She reels back hard, only barely managing to twist her body around Noah before she hits wood. Blood explodes into her mouth, salty and metallic, and Noah wails.

Jackie squeezes her eyes shut, curled around him on the floor, as the others throw themselves at Travis. She can hear him knocking them back, she can't move or Noah might get hit. He might already be hurt, she might not have protected him well enough, his little brains-

“Run!” Travis cries, and Nat’s footsteps flee.

The others ditch Travis immediately, howling like animals and screaming Natalie’s name as they stream out of the cabin and into the woods. Travis curses and sprints after them, just before Jackie feels warm hands on her back. She cracks open her eyelids to find Shauna staring over her.

“Are you okay?”

Jackie nods, the lump in her throat feeling about as big as Mars, and sits up to tangle her fingers in Shauna’s hair.

“Is Noah–” Jackie chokes.

Shauna shakes her head, stroking his back.

“He’s fine, Jax, you did so good, okay? But I need to– I need to go.”

There are bright spots of red high on her cheeks, and her brown eyes are blown out to twice their size, and her skin seems to crackle with static electricity. Jackie can feel her heart stuttering as it shocks her. Shauna is a wild thing, one goal from the win, barely restraining the adrenaline high.

Jackie nods.

“Go,” she croaks, and Shauna is gone.

Jackie’s shoulders shake as she presses a kiss to the baby’s head, but her eyes barely sting. Nat. God. Nat. They can’t–

Wood creaks in the corner and Jackie clutches Noah closer, whirling to find Lottie huddled in the corner. The panic doesn’t fade.

“You have to go with them,” she says, out of breath, “Or they’ll think you don’t matter anymore.”

Lottie shudders and closes her eyes, shrinking back against the wall for a fraction of a second. But then she pushes herself towards the door, tearing off into the snow until she’s swallowed up by white.

Jackie watches her go, the last of her teammates left in the cabin, and then turns back to Noah. He might need his diaper changed. She’ll– she’ll check. He needs something. He must need something. There must be something…

She hits the ground again halfway to the back room, the sharp ache in her knees absolutely nothing compared to the gaping emptiness in her stomach. Sobs wrack her body as she dry heaves, Noah’s warm little hand resting just below her collarbone.

Somewhere in the woods, Shauna is howling.

 

 

Notes:

Okay ANOTHER short chapter but the hunt is up next...

Chapter 25: heart is taking over

Shauna never feels more alive than during the hunt.

As she tears through the snow, cheeks burning with the bloodrush, heart beating in her fingers, Tai grunting at her side, she can’t help but be grateful that Nat ran. She would’ve done it in the cabin – she was about to do it in the cabin. But this is better. This is right, weaving through the trees, screaming so loud she can feel it in her teeth.

She’s stronger now than she was two weeks ago. Her stitches have fallen out, and it never burns unless she’s peeing. She still aches, always and everywhere, but her nipples aren’t bleeding anymore and she can sprint without her knees threatening to buckle. She feels good. She feels powerful.

Akilah yips, squinting against the blinding daylight. Van growls, frost caking her . They don’t need the darkness anymore.

Broken branches, trampled snow, drops of red on blinding white. Nat’s been through here, and so has Travis. They’re getting closer. Shuana’s mouth goes wet. There’s a voice in her head, in her heart, in the slap of her feet against the forest floor, a demand beyond words, cut her throat, spill her blood, the action of it looping, the warmth of the skin, the steam of the spray.

But the trail goes cold; one moment they’re following in Natalie’s footsteps, and the next there's nothing to guide them but barren branches.

“Fuck,” Mari says, her voice harsher than her howling as they skid to a stop.

“I can’t hear her,” Van snarls.

“Shh,” Tai says.

They hush, holding their breath at the command in her voice. Tai closes her eyes like she’s blocking them out, breathes in deep. And then something changes; she snaps to attention like she’s been shocked, eyes flying open.

“This way,” she says, and flies into motion.

The others are quick to follow.

Tai guides them true. Within moments they’re at the edge of the iced-over lake, watching Nat and Travis hurl themselves across it, holding hands. They follow without pause, without thought, footsteps battering the white expanse in unison, closing the distance. Cut her throat, spill her blood, cut her throat, spill her blood, cut her throat–

Suddenly, Nat and Travis freeze. Shauna doesn’t even have the time to wonder why before the crack sounds across the valley.

A second later, Travis is gone and Nat is on her back.

“Travis!” she screams, just as Mari cries, “Spread out so the ice doesn’t break!”

Shauna stands, swaying, frozen as the ice at her feet. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t…

“Help!” Nat screams, crawling to try and drag him back up, “Help me!”

Misty makes it to her first, tossing aside the ax that she used to lop off Coach Ben’s leg. It skids across the snow as she tackles Nat away from Travis’ flailing hands. Shauna is jolted into action at the flash of silver on white, running to join the others around where Travis fell in.

“No,” Natalie begs, “No, Misty, fuck, let me go, let me fucking–”

It seems so wrong, that hole in the ice, that broken circle of water. Cracks spiderweb out around it, reaching towards where they stand. Travis’ fingers are still alive, still scrabbling at the snow, but he’s getting slower. He’s running out of air.

“We can still get him out of there!” Akilah says.

They could. Of course they could. But they’re out here for a reason. With Travis in the water…

“Wait,” Shauna demands, “Wait.”

Misty lets go of Natalie, and she launches herself towards the hole. Shauna moves to grab her as Travis garbles, “Natalie, Natalie,” his throat full of numbing water.

But Natalie stops, just inches away from him, panting, her hand outstretched but unmoving.

“No,” she breathes, barely audible over the splashing.

She doesn’t save him. None of them save him. They stay still and silent until the bubbles stop. Until Travis’ arm finally starts sinking under the surface, disappearing into the blue-black, powdery snow still clenched between his fingers.

“Grab him,” Shauna says.

Misty sprints forward and sinks her hands into the hole, straining to drag him back up. Mari grips his other hand and yanks upwards, and Melissa and Gen and Akilah rush over to help. They grunt and pull as Shauna watches, numb, and Nat stands shakily. Finally Travis – Travis’ body – is laid out, his lips purple, his skin already a mottled gray. He looks like his little brother. Misty leans her ear down to his lips, and sits back up without a word.

Dead. He’s dead.

“The wilderness chose,” Van declares, so sincere she's splintering with it.

Nat exhales like the air has been knocked out of her stomach. Shauna curls her hands into fists. Akilah closes her eyes.

“How are we going to bring him back?” Mari asks dully.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Lottie stumbles out onto the lake just after Gen hacks off a branch big enough to hold Travis’ weight. She takes one look at Travis’ body and makes a beeline for Nat, who’s standing with her arms crossed around her chest. She’s barely crying, but when Lottie tries to rest a hand on her shoulder Nat jerks away.

Something in Lottie’s eyes hardens, and she comes to help them with the branch. Shauna binds Travis’ hands and feet to the branch with belts. Like a pig before the roast.

“He’ll fall,” Lottie whispers.

“Wh– What?” Mari asks.

Lottie clears her throat.

“The body,” she says, “It’ll fall. Here.”

She pulls off her jacket, the ridiculous faux fur from T.J. Maxx, and hands it to Shauna.

“Tie his waist, too.”

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

It’s just like last time.

Everyone else files into the cabin behind Nat, until it’s just Shauna and the body in the cold. Just Shauna, and the body, and the cold.

She never expects the blood. Even after all these months, it takes her by surprise. The sheer amount, the excess of splatter, the squelching sound. The essence of life, drained, dripping away into nothing. The wine-dark brilliance of it under the clouds. How pretty it is, ruby red on her fingers, and how ugly a brown when it dries. How it sticks.

Speaking of stick: the skin is the hardest. She has to cut so delicately, to get enough to peel back and roll away. And the pulling – it’s hard. It hurts. It’s difficult to get a handle on, because of the sheen. Sweat, it must be, human oil.

And the bones. They can’t splinter into the meat, of course, so she needs to be careful with them even as she’s sawing and hacking and straining. And the limbs, and the organs. How to preserve it all, how to cut and carve until all that’s left of Travis Martinez is a pile of meat and marrow.

His face is the hardest. It’s bright out; the work is easier, but his eyes are too frozen to close. They see her, empty, unjudging, watching regardless. But Shauna doesn’t need to look away. This is for Noah. For Jackie. For all of them.

They trusted her. They chose her. She can pay this price.

When she’s finally finished, she lifts the knife to her lips and licks it clean.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Shauna heads straight for the back room.

Jackie’s in there with Noah, washing him with carefully warmed water and one of the few clean rags. They don’t have any soap, which is always a concern, but they’re trying to keep him as clean as possible. It’s why Shauna doesn’t touch him when she comes in, doesn’t scoop him up the way she aches to. She doesn’t want to risk infecting him with her blood-encrusted hands – but she can’t go any longer without seeing them. It’s like an itching under her skin, one so demandingly uncomfortable she can’t even wait to wash off her hands in the snow.

Jackie lifts Noah up instead, rushing to meet Shauna as she kicks the door closed behind her.

“Are you–”

Shauna is kissing her before she even decides to. She’s kissing her like she’s drowning, and Jackie is the air above the icy surface; like instinct, like breathing. It’s not what she imagined in her cozy attic, in her crappy car, in her comfy suburban daydreams. It isn’t soft and sweet; it isn’t voltage and fire.

Kissing Jackie is all chapped lips and raised ribs and skeletal fingers. It’s Shauna’s filthy hands staining Jackie’s face and neck and shoulders, sticking in her tangled hair. It’s panting breath and pounding hearts, awkward angles and the desperate knocking of teeth on teeth.

Kissing Jackie is bleeding. Kissing Jackie is blood.

It’s even better than the hunt, than the kill, than the meat in her mouth. Noah whines, carefully trapped between their chests, but she can’t stop to check on him. She can’t stop, can’t even fathom it, stopping would be dying, she needs to keep going, she needs Jackie, all of Jackie, she needs–

Someone bangs on the door, and they fly apart. Jackie gapes at Shauna, her swollen lips open wide, her shirt hiked up to show her hollow stomach, and Shauna feels herself gaping back.

“The, uh–” Tai’s voice cuts off, “It’s ready. It’s time to eat.”

“We’ll be right out,” Shauna says, her voice hoarse.

Jackie presses a hand to her mouth, blinking. Shauna reaches out to pull down her shirt; Jackie brushes Shauna’s hair back in order; they leave the bedroom without a word.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Natalie gets his heart.

The others give Shauna pieces of their portions, just like any other night, but Nat doesn’t offer up a bit of hers – not that Shauna wants it. She would never ask. If it was Jackie…

It wasn’t Jackie. It never would be. Jackie’s sitting next to her, head bowed so that Shauna can’t catch her eyes. Gagging but eating. Alive.

Shauna never felt so alive.

They don’t know what to say when it’s over. Shauna thinks that maybe it would be better if they didn’t say anything at all – if they kept their mouths shut for the rest of the day and all through the night, if they held their silence until sunrise. Maybe then they could forget.

Not that they need to forget, she reminds herself as she bites back moans of delight at the juice coating her tongue. They did what they had to for Noah. This is a sacrifice for her son. This is martyrdom, motherhood. Not murder. Not monstrosity.

Somehow, milk flows from her breast just after they finish. Noah sucks hungrily, gratefully. Shauna nearly faints from the relief.

The tension releases like the walls are sighing. The baby is eating; the baby will live. Misty watches with furrowed brows, but keeps quiet.

“It’ll be spring soon,” Lottie says.

Nat’s answering laughter is the worst sound Shauna has ever heard. Worse than the screeching of the plane crash. Worse than Noah’s wailing. Worse than the rattle in Jackie’s chest on particularly cold nights.

“He was taking me somewhere,” Nat says.

Her voice is breaking, but vacant. Not angry. In pain, but only distantly.

“He said he knew someplace safe. Somewhere you wouldn’t find us. He said Coach–”

Her words sputter out into a puff of air. She blinks rapidly, and Shauna can’t tell if it’s because she’s surprised at herself or because she doesn’t want them to see her cry.

She stands up from her chair and steps forward until Nat is sitting at her feet, staring up at her with red eyes. She can feel the others exchanging glances, and Noah wiggles a little while he drinks, but she ignores them. She drops onto one knee, so that she and Nat can look each other in the face.

“Thank you,” she says, sorrier than she can tell.

Nat tightens her jaw and looks away. Shauna presses her lips together and considers.

“Do you want to burp him?” she asks, nodding down at her son.

Nat’s head jerks back up to her, incredulous. Shauna drops Noah down into her arms before she can say anything. Misty shifts next to them, antsy, but Nat adjusts quickly to support his head.

She looks down at him, transfixed, and Shauna realizes that she hasn’t actually held him yet.

“Here,” Akilah murmurs, coming over to help show Nat what to do.

Nat still looks lightyears away. But she follows Akilah’s quiet instructions, and takes the rag from Jackie, lifting his tiny to her shoulder and patting his back.

“That’s too gentle,” Mari says, “Akilah said it’s like–” she gestures against her leg.

“And it helps if you rub his back, too,” Gen cuts in.

Natalie listens, unsure, until he spits up disgusting white fluid and everyone cheers. They quiet down quickly, remembering what exactly the source of that spit-up is. But it’s nice, while it lasts.

“Waste of food,” Melissa grins at him.

Shauna wishes she weren’t so actually upset about it.

She takes Noah back, sitting back down and helping him latch onto her other breast. Nat looks down at her cracking hands, flexing her fingers, and then stands and stalks out of the cabin. Misty and Lottie both start up after her, but Jackie beats them to it. Shauna does her best to ignore the small sting.

They have plenty of time to talk later, now that they've eaten. And Jackie kissed her back. It’s fine if she wants to comfort Natalie; it’s needed. It’s good for everyone involved. Shauna will have time alone with her tonight.

“Guess we’ll clean up after them,” Mari says drily.

 

 

Notes:

There's always a price to pay...and Nat's gonna pay it :(

Chapter 26: human supernova

Jackie is zero percent dressed for the cold.

She’s got on her jersey and shorts, with the vest that used to be her varsity jacket and makeshift leg warmers on her arms and feet, but stepping outside she might as well be naked. She curls in on herself instinctively, bringing her hands to her chest against the pricking and pulling of the wind, and blinks against the light until she can make out Nat’s outline trudging towards the treeline.

“Nat!” Jackie calls, hurrying towards the edge of the porch.

Nat stops without turning to her.

“Jackie,” Nat says, her voice eerily even, “Go back inside.”

Jackie shakes her head, limping down the stairs of the porch. She realizes, with a creeping desperation, that if Nat tried to run she wouldn’t be able to stop her.

“Nat, come on, you can’t–”

She steps down onto the last step on her bad leg, and a shot of fire licks up her calf hot enough to send her knees-down into the snow. Jackie gasps through the moment where she’s nothing but nerves screaming, where there’s no sensation but pain, and when she’s able to blink the stars out of her eyes Nat is gripping her shoulders.

“Right,” Nat sighs, “You’re going back inside.”

“No,” Jackie pants, “No, I’m not leaving you out here.”

Nat moves to pull Jackie up by the armpits, her red-rimmed eyes sickeningly empty.

“Not really your call, cap–”

Her words cut off into a grunt as Jackie goes boneless, sagging in her arms so rapidly Nat has to drop her.

“Jesus, Jackie, are you two?”

Jackie glares up at her from the ground, hands stinging from the snow. She’s not two. She’s eighteen, and freezing, and she just ate human fucking flesh and it wasn’t even the first time, and her leg doesn’t work anymore and Shauna kissed her. Jackie is eighteen, and so not letting Nat wander off into the woods alone.

“You can’t leave,” she says again, and it sounds like begging.

Nat presses her lips together as if that’ll keep Jackie from seeing them wobble. Her dark roots are starker than ever in the white light; they’ll be long enough for a haircut by summer. If they can just make it to summer, if it ever comes at all.

“Why not?” she asks, voice hollow.

Jackie pulls herself up, trying and failing to hide her cringe at the agony of her stitches pulling.

“Because we need you. You’re our hunter.”

Nat snorts, stepping back away from the cabin. Jackie wonders if she’s really shaking, or if it’s just her own eyes failing her.

“Bullshit.”

If Jackie squints, she can almost see the acid dribbling from her lips.

“I’m serious,” she insists anyway, standing now, “You’re keeping us alive.”

Nat swings forwards to grab Jackie’s shoulders again, her eyes wet and wild, her fingers fisting in Jackie’s jersey.

“Bullshit,” she hisses again, nose nearly brushing Jackie’s, “Did I keep Travis alive? Did I–

She shakes Jackie, breath hot. Her chest heaves like it’s the end of a game, wheezing, rattling.

"I fucking killed him, okay? I killed Travis. I loved him and I killed him, because that’s what I fucking do, okay, I’m fucking poisonous and I– Jackie, I can’t–"

Some small part of Jackie wants to retreat, to call for Lottie or Van or someone , someone who knew Nat better before, someone who can give her the right words. She doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what she can do, except–

She steps forward and pulls Natalie close, wraps her friend up in her arms. Nat makes an odd sighing sound, like the wind through the hollowed out metal that used to be a private plane, and buries her red-streaked face in Jackie’s shoulder. Jackie pushes past the panicked awkwardness, holding on while Nat shudders and shakes.

“You’re not poison,” she says into Nat’s hair, “You’re not. We need you, alright? We need you with us.”

Nat is going tense again, but Jackie squeezes her tighter, babbling.

“You’re our friend. You’re Natalie. And you’re the best shot, and you know the woods better than anyone, and– and Shauna kissed me! And if you– I can’t talk about it with anyone else.”

And oh, God, when she says that out loud it settles in her stomach like a burning brick. Shauna kissed her. Shauna kissed her. Shauna kissed her. In the daylight, without a drop of alcohol in her system, without a single boy in a hundred miles to practice for. Why would Shauna kiss her?

Nat’s shoulders shake violently, and she disentagles herself. Jackie’s heart jolts, and she fists her fingers in the sleeve of her leather jacket, but then Nat lifts her blotchy face to meet her eyes. She’s laughing, and it’s bitter and breathless, but it’s something. Some sign of life that isn’t total self-hatred.

“God,” Nat gasps, “Jackie. You self-obsessed bitch.”

She swipes at her cheeks as Jackie smiles shakily, pretending not to notice.

“Help me inside?”

Nat’s eyes slip closed, just for a second, and Jackie sees how tired she is. How self-obsessed she’s really being, for asking this. But she doesn’t give a shit. She meant what she said: she needs Nat alive, and she really doesn’t have the energy to care about whether that’s selfless or selfish. It’s survival, and isn’t that all that matters out here?

“Sure,” Nat says.

Her eyes are dead, but her arm is warm around Jackie’s back. And she comes back into the cabin.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Jackie was sort of counting on using Nat as a human shield against the talk she seriously needs to have with Shauna, but Lottie swoops over as soon as they’re inside. Nat agrees to let Lottie wash her bloody hands, too exhausted to put up a fight, and Jackie’s left with nothing to do but help Shauna with the baby.

Except she doesn’t even have that, because Shauna hands Noah off to Akilah and Mari while he naps. She looks at Jackie like she wants to swallow her whole, nodding her head towards the back bedroom, and Jackie can’t help but follow her.

She squeezes into the room, closing the door behind her, and inhales slowly before turning to Shauna with every intention of having a genuine conversation.

Instead, Shauna pushes her against the wall and catches her in a blindingly savage kiss.

Jackie gasps Shauna’s breath into her own lungs, burying her hands in Shauna’s hair and slipping her tongue into her best friend’s mouth. It’s like dropping a match into gasoline; two seconds and she’s raging, ravaging, a total inferno. Shauna’s nails dig into her hips, pulling Jackie’s body against herself, slotting her knee between Jackie’s thighs.

Jackie makes a sound that she didn’t know she could, breathy in a guttural sort of way, and Shauna pulls back so that their foreheads are brushing. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips already swollen, her brown eyes huge. She’s so pretty, Jackie thinks it might actually kill her – thinks, now that she knows how those lips feel between hers, her heart will burst if they’re apart another second.

“Am I–”

This is when they should stop. This is where Shauna should ask if she hurt Jackie’s leg, where Jackie should ask what this is. Should tell her that they need to go slow, that they need to talk about this, that they aren’t thinking straight. This is the threshold; the farthest they’ve ever gone, drunkenly stumbling in party bathrooms, giggling on top of Jackie’s sheets. This is the line that Jackie isn’t ever supposed to cross.

She never understood before, how this could be a need. She rolled her eyes through every high school abstinence talk – because as if she’d be stupid enough to lose control in some heated moment. As if she’d even feel the heat. She was never able to get out of her head with Jeff, with Travis.

But oh, God, with Shauna…

They should stop, she knows. But she can’t remember why.

“No,” Jackie sighs, and tugs Shauna’s face back to hers.

Now it’s Shauna’s turn to gasp; to moan as Jackie’s hands travel down from her hair to her shoulders, her spine, her hips; to let her breath hitch as Jackie’s body rolls against hers. Shauna’s teeth dig into Jackie’s lips, deep enough to draw blood, gripping Jackie’s waist. Jackie’s hands slip under the hem of Shauna’s shirt, sliding up the soft skin she’s been dreaming of since the eighth grade, until her fingertips can brush beneath the elastic of Shauna’s sports bra. Shauna presses kisses down Jackie’s jaw, her neck, humming a little as Jackie pants and tosses her head back hard enough to leave a bruise.

And then Shauna finds a place to bite down, to suck. Jackie’s hips jerk against the friction of Shauna’s jeans, and Shauna lets out this noise that Jackie thinks she’d die to hear again, and Shauna’s hands leave her waist to find the inside of her thigh, and Jackie can barely hear her own moaning over the blood rushing in her head–

But then Shauna grips a spot on her left leg, and cold clarity crashes through Jackie’s body. She’s suddenly, painfully aware of the angry poison ivy scar on her left leg, the terrible reds and yellows and blacks of her right calf, the blackened stubs where her toes used to be, the skeletal edges of her hips, the greasy filth coating her skin, the choppy unevenness of her knotted hair. She isn’t Jackie Taylor, prom queen. She’s Jackie Taylor, patchwork project of horror.

Shauna pulls back again, her brow pulling together as she brings a hand to Jackie’s cheek.

“Hey,” she frowns, “Are you–”

Jackie’s eyes flick to the ground, and Shauna jerks away for real, bringing a hand to her red mouth.

“Shit,” she breathes, “Jax, I’m so–”

“Don’t,” Jackie says, “Please.”

If Shauna apologizes for…whatever that was, Jackie thinks she might go catatonic. And the genuine panic in her best friend’s face is strangely, warmly comforting. Shauna clearly thinks that Jackie didn’t want that – which means, maybe, that she might have.

“Jackie,” Shauna says.

Jackie steels herself. Her heart is racing, but she’s so sick of being afraid of herself. She can’t go back to not having this with Shauna, not now that she knows what it feels like. And besides, there’s nothing stopping them out here. Jackie’s falling out of the habit of denial, and of denying herself. If they want to kiss each other, and it feels like that, why shouldn’t they?

Getting shot down by Shauna is sort of her biggest fear. She knows exactly how agonizing it is, how many pieces it would shatter her into. But Shauna was the one to initiate this. And Jackie can’t keep pretending like they aren’t always looking at each other, always touching each other, always wanting more.

Or maybe she just doesn't want to.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for forever,” she confesses in a whisper.

Shauna blinks at her, and then smiles the same radiant smile as the first time she held Noah. It’s like dawn breaking across her face, so brilliantly bright that for a moment there isn’t a trace of starvation in the curves of her cheeks. Jackie feels the wind woosh from her lungs, just from staring at the same face she’s seen every day since they were five.

“Really?” Shauna whispers.

Jackie grins back, shy. She’s still terrified, still pretty sure Shauna’s only kissing her because they’ve been trapped with equally disgusting, feral girls for the past ten months. But she can’t lie to that light in Shauna’s eyes.

She steps forward and wraps her arms around Shauna’s neck, tilting her chin down flirtatiously. For the first time in as long as she can remember, Jackie feels her age. She feels like a teenage girl, bubbly and giddy and flushed from being kissed. Kissed by Shauna Shipman.

“Really.”

And when she kisses Shauna, she can’t remember what she looks like at all.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

They don’t have sex.

It’s probably for the best, given that making out with Shauna almost gave her a heart attack. Besides, they shouldn’t be burning any unnecessary calories. Not to mention that Jackie isn’t even entirely sure how to have sex with a girl, and she can’t handle the idea of being bad for Shauna.

It was tough to come up for air. But for tonight, it’s more than enough to trade kisses, and then to cuddle up under the blankets with Noah in their arms. They don’t talk about what it means, but for once Jackie isn’t completely wigging out about the lack of communication. She’s too warm to be wigged. Too inflamed to be insecure.

“So, how long is forever?” Shauna asks, still smiling as she fits her pinky into Noah’s tiny hand.

“Hmm?”

Jackie stretches out her good leg, making a face at Noah from where her head rests on Shauna’s shoulder. Shauna rests her cheek on Jackie’s hair.

“You said you wanted to do this,” she kisses Jackie’s hair, “For forever. So, how long is that?”

Jackie bites down on her smile, sitting up to smirk.

“Well, not that, exactly,” she says, and then presses a light kiss to Shauna’s lips.

Shauna sighs happily, leaning into the kiss, before laughing and pulling away.

“Nice try, Jax. You can’t get off that easy.”

Jackie scrunches her nose in mock frustration.

“So demanding, Shipman. But fine. Since we were, like, thirteen, I guess.”

She looks back to Noah, reaching to place her hand on his tiny stomach. Feeling it rise and fall beneath her fingers makes it a lot easier to ignore the weight of Shauna’s stare.

“I win, then,” Shauna says quietly.

Jackie frowns, looking back at her. Shauna’s dark eyes are glowing as she reaches up to brush away a tangled strand of Jackie’s hair.

“I’ve been wanting this since we were twelve.”

And, God, what is Jackie supposed to do, not kiss her best friend’s face off?

 

 

Notes:

alright, we've finally earned the fluff!! truly sorry for the tonal shift, these girls share kind of a one-track mind when it comes to kissage :)

Chapter 27: a different way to be

Summary:

I am SO sorry for how long this chapter took to post. I got busy and also supremely lazy - but hopefully the next one will be out sooner!! Hope you enjoy, I'd love to hear your thoughts :D

That spring is the best of Jackie’s life.

She’d never admit it to anyone, of course. She can barely admit it to herself. It’s not like they’ve stopped struggling; they’re still a bunch of fucked-up teenage girls stranded in the middle of the wilderness with an infant to take care of. They all keep buying into Lottie’s rituals, and showing Shauna the same unrelenting reverence, and eyeing each other for signs of threat.

But winter fades, subtly and slowly. The first morning Shauna kisses Jackie awake, they break apart to a strange tapping on the glass planes of the back room’s window. It’s too singular to be rain, and too soft to be an animal or tree branch. It takes them an embarrassingly long time to realize that it’s the steady dripping of a melting icicle.

The barrenness of winter melts into the bugs and grubs of spring, and the hunts stop. Within a few weeks of that first time they pull cards, the snow melts for good. The trees begin to sprout little red buds, and then erupt into flowers and leaves and bright, fresh greens.

The animals come back, deer and birds and bunnies and beavers, meat that Nat doesn’t let go to waste. Shauna’s butchering even more than she did last summer, and the girls are starting to lose some of their skeletal skinniness. Shauna’s skin stops hanging off her bones, and her eyes look less sunken, and Jackie can’t stop smiling about it.

And Noah grows, in a series of miracles that pile up higher each day. Shauna’s features become clearer in his miniature face. He learns to really look at them, to hold his head up when they lay him out on the floor, to grip the makeshift toys they’ve crafted for at least a few seconds. They all take turns watching him, squabbling over who gets to babysit. He ends up being rationed out as carefully as their food rations, to make sure that nobody misses too many big moments.

Shauna, of course, gets her son whenever she wants; and Jackie spends almost all of her time with him. Her favorite developments are his smile, and his tiny baby laughter when they play peek-a-boo, and the way he coos when she cradles him close. He isn’t getting much bigger, but he seems relatively healthy - which is pretty much Jackie’s wildest wish for him out here.

The real reason for Jackie’s joy, though, is Shauna. It’s unbelievably selfish thinking, but Jackie wouldn’t trade a single one of Shauna’s kisses for all of modern America. Jackie’s completely obsessed with her – which is nothing new, of course, but now she’s able to show it. They fall asleep entangled in each other after a day spent brushing shoulders while they play with Noah, handing him off to one of the others and sneaking away to make out in the meat shed, sneaking smiles over dinner, giggling as they collapse into bed.

Jackie’s still painfully insecure, and she’s starting to think that she always will be. But Shauna breaks down her walls with every touch, every flush of her cheeks, every time she looks at Jackie with this insatiable need stirring in her dark eyes, until finally it’s the first hot night of summer and Noah is tucked away in the attic upstairs, and Jackie is sweating and shaking on the bed in the back room, Shauna’s teeth and tongue at the base of her neck, Shauna’s fingers crooked deep inside of her, Shauna’s hips rocking against her thigh, Jackie’s head lolling back, so overcome she can’t even think to stop herself from gasping, Shauna, God, Shauna, I love you, oh, Shauna, I love you so much–

And then she’s coming completely apart, and Shauna is shuddering above her, and they collapse against each other in a pile of heat and sweat and satisfaction. God, they could’ve been doing this all along? Instead of stealing glances, bitching at each other, fucking Jeff, fucking Travis – they could’ve been sleeping with each other?

Jackie is so beautifully spent it takes her ages to realize that they haven’t really talked about what they’re doing, haven’t really put a label on it, that Shauna is probably just using her to scratch an itch. She’s just remembering that Shauna’s already done this before, or something like it, with Jeff – and, God, he basically said exactly what Jackie just did, and he was probably better than Jackie because he was definitely more experienced - when Shauna lifts her head from Jackie’s shoulder to cut off the spiral.

“I love you, too,” she murmurs, smiling against Jackie’s swollen lips.

Tears sting against Jackie’s eyelids. There’s a supernova in her chest, all light and heat and energy, and it’s better than eating, better than survival, better than championship. It’s the ultimate victory, because it’s Shauna - Jackie’s Shauna, loving her back. It’s all she’s ever really wanted, as far back as she can remember. It’s everything.

“Really?” she croaks, and Shauna laughs.

“Really,” she says, chin up like she’s daring Jackie to doubt it.

Instead Jackie giggles wetly and pulls her back down for another kiss.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

That summer is pretty wonderful, too. There are still chores, of course, necessary to staying alive in the woods and among the other girls. But it’s so much easier to survive in the sunshine than it was in the snow. The forest swells to be so full of life that they can pretend like they’re above scavenging for maggots to boil; they feast on roots and berries and deer, and their stomachs are rarely full but they almost never go to bed hungry. The constantly buzzing mosquitoes become an annoyance to swat away rather than protein to lick off of their fingers.

The sun becomes really sweltering right around when Noah starts babbling, and never stops. He was such a quiet newborn, and he still hardly ever cries, but he seems to love imitating their words in his nonsensical baby-talk. The girls take him down to the lake almost every day; Lottie and Jackie fashion a sunhat for him out of Javi’s beat up baseball cap, and a little tent out of his team jacket. Nat sits with Noah while the others swim and splash and lounge on the beach, holding him close and squinting across the water.

The lake is always freezing. Sometimes Jackie hears Gen shriek with laughter and imagines Travis crying out for help. Sometimes the light sparkles on the water and all she can see is Laura Lee’s plane exploding out into flame and smoke. Sometimes she wonders if pieces of the wreck are beneath her kicking feet, if Laura Lee’s ashes are floating against her skin, and suddenly she can’t get any air in.

Every once in.a while she has to kick frantically to the shore and flop down next to Nat, cradle Noah to her chest until her lungs start expanding again. But usually Shauna is there to flick water in her face or challenge her to a chicken fight or - Jackie’s very favorite solution - pull her under the murky surface for a kiss, snorting bubbles of laughter out onto her purple lips.

And it’s hard to remember the hard times when everything is heat and humidity. It’s easier to forget, especially with everyone around her throwing themselves into the decadence of summer with a wild ferocity. They stay out in the woods until the late sunsets, relishing in their freedom from the claustrophobic cabin. Akilah experiments until she comes up with a paste of mashed-up leaves that turns out to be an almost effective bug repellent. They laugh at each other’s constantly peeling sunburns and Misty’s incessant reminders to drink lots of water!

At night, they put Noah down to sleep and then light a bonfire in the front yard. The smoke chases away the mosquitos, and it’s a nice excuse to sit around and chat or sing or dance. Someone stays in the cabin with Noah, and everyone else acts like they can get drunk enough on Mari’s berries to forget how that bright light sparking against dry twigs once smoldered over Javi’s smoking body. Tai and Van sneak away to the sound of wolf whistles and friendly jeering, cheerfully flipping everyone off over their shoulders, and then Melissa and Gen blush their way through half-hearted excuses that make Mari smirk until Akilah is giggling helplessly against her shoulder.

Shauna always stays up until the end of the night, when the others reconvene to crash in the cabin. Shauna stands in front of the doorway as they stumble up to press their foreheads to her knuckles, falling in line for a headcount to make sure that everyone is safe inside. Shauna comes inside to feed Noah, and then she and Jackie either take him into the back room to pass out or hand him off to a babysitter in favor of some privacy. They sleep long and late, to miss the hottest parts of the day.

Under the light of each full moon, the girls eat some of Misty’s mushrooms and tear through the woods until sunrise. Lottie always swears that it won’t end in attempted murder, and Shauna pinky-promises that it never does, but Jackie stays in the cabin to babysit every time but once. She wakes up with dubious memories of sprinting through the trees, way too fast for the limp that she has now, and opening her chest to howl at the massive moon, and hot hands on her body, and her lip caught between Shauna’s canines. She wakes up full and flushed, flung across Shauna in the main room with twigs and leaves caught in her hair, and swears to herself that she’ll never do it again.

But, yeah, it’s a good summer.

It should completely suck: the bugs and the humidity and the rituals and the lingering scars. It does suck, to be scrounging for survival all the time. Jackie is still worried about everything - the potential for heatstroke, poison ivy in the undergrowth, the inevitable end of summer. But she honestly hadn’t believed that they would make it through the winter, or that the frost could ever melt from her bones, and now here they are. Alive and warm.

Everyone is loose and lazy-limbed, determined to do whatever they want, whenever they want. They save pelts and furs and try to preserve some food, but otherwise they’re all about the now. There’s color in their cheeks and meat on their bones and it’s all Jackie can remember to care about.

Well, almost everything. The reason that the summer is good without being great is because of the natural world’s insistence on being a total dick to Noah.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

The first time it happens is late spring, when Jackie has Noah laid out on a blanket over the grass outside. He’s totally transfixed by the tree branches swaying above him, silent and open mouthed as he watches sunlight shift through the leaves.

Jackie, unsettled for no reason, distracts him with his current favorite game. She leans down so that her frizzy hair falls around his face, making a bzzz-zip! sound and pretending to sting him with her fingers. He giggles uncontrollably, huge eyes happy as he looks right up at her, and Jackie’s heart swells until she thinks it’ll burst.

Shauna walks over from her station outside the cabin, wiping blood from her arms, and Jackie turns to beam at her. Noah gives a joyful little hiccup, waving his hands in his mom’s direction.

“Look, baby bee, it’s Mama,” Jackie says, “Can you say hi to Mama? Ma-ma, see?”

“Hey, kid,” Shauna grins as she settles down next to them.

She doesn’t touch him with her dirtied hands, but she leans forward so that he can tangle his dimpled fingers into her sun-lightened hair. It’s such a warm moment that Jackie rests her sticky cheek against Shauna’s shoulder without bothering to check if anyone’s watching.

They haven’t told anyone about their being together (together, Jackie swoons to herself, girlfriends! ). Except for Nat and Tai, which means that Van also knows, and Lottie has almost definitely guessed. But otherwise the cat is completely in the bag - exactly where Jackie likes it, thank you very much.

She’s pretty much come to terms with the whole girl-kissing thing, mostly because Shauna is the girl that she’s kissing. But Mari is already constantly grumbling about favoritism, even though she seems to like using Jackie as a way to ask Shauna for favors. Jackie doesn’t want to mess with Shauna’s authority any more than she ever has. It’s easy to forget when they’re all dancing and drinking and laughing together every night, but Jackie still has nightmares about closets and snowflakes. She knows what happens to people who lose the support of the team.

She can’t be the reason Shauna gets iced out. She can’t let that happen, period.

“Christ, it’s hot,” Shauna sighs, lifting her hair off of her neck and pulling Jackie out of her head.

Jackie hums in agreement and stays nestled against her side anyways.

“You know those cans of coke that they had on the plane?”

Shauna groans, “Oh, you actual bitch, how could you remind me of those?”

Jackie smiles at the lack of real bite in Shauna’s words – and at the fact that she hasn’t pulled away, either.

“I would actually die for an iced cold coca cola right now,” Jackie says, “Like, with the droplets running down the side?”

“Condensation. I could kill for condensation.”

Jackie shivers herself back from the thought, I know. Because she doesn’t know; because Shauna would never. The only thing she’s ever killed for is Noah – and he’s the only thing that matters. Jackie pulls a face to make him laugh, in order to remind herself.

“He loves you,” Shauna says softly.

Jackie grins at Noah, letting the shadow pass. His gummy mouth cracks open to mirror her, and she can feel herself literally melt. He’s just too cute, there’s no possible way for her to deal.

“Do you love me, bee?” She smacks a kiss against his stomach. “I love you, too.”

Shauna elbows her.

“You know who else loves you?”

Jackie’s smile goes so wide she can feel it pushing her ears back. She pulls back to do a quick scan of their surroundings, and makes sure they can’t be seen from the cabin’s windows, before angling to nudge her nose up Shauna’s jaw. Shauna sighs a little, which sends Jackie’s pulse shooting up to a height it probably shouldn’t reach with a baby in her arms.

“Mari,” she pretends to guess, and Shauna huffs, suddenly squeezing Jackie’s thigh.

She doesn’t seem to mind touching Jackie with her bloodied hands, although she is careful not to brush against her clothes. Jackie’s about to suggest that they find someone to babysit Noah for about an hour when he goes stiff in her arms.

She jerks away from Shauna just before he starts wailing.

It’s the kind of cry she hasn’t heard since the winter – reedy and confused like he’s in real pain. Panic seizes in Jackie’s heart so fast it’s violent, leaving her breathless and scrambling.

“Oh, shit,” she hisses, frantically scanning him, “What is it? What–”

Shauna’s breathing goes ragged as she grips Jackie’s arm, hand hovering over the rolls of Noah’s tiny leg. For a moment, Jackie can’t even comprehend what she’s seeing: an angry red blotch on his calf, already swelling, with a pinprick of blood at the center. It looks like a bite, maybe, or a sting. Jackie is almost relieved, because bugs she can handle – but Noah won’t stop crying.

“Stay with him,” Shauna says, horrifically still. “I’m going to get Misty.”

“Wh– Huh? No, it’s okay, you stay, I’ll–”

But Shauna is shaking her head, already on her feet.

“I’m faster, alright? It’s fine, just– get him inside.”

Jackie feels herself nodding, jerky, and Shauna takes off. She pulls herself up from the grass, barely registering the fire that shoots up her left leg. Shauna disappears into the treeline as Jackie rushes to the cabin and Noah cries, and cries, and cries.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

“It’s a wasp sting,” Misty says grimly.

Her glasses are fogging slightly in the humidity, her face redder than a tomato, her thick mass of hair tied up behind her head. She’s covered in red marks herself, a collection of bites from what looks like fifty different kinds of bug.

I’m O-neg, she’s told anyone willing to listen for more than a few seconds, Sweet all the way through. The mosquitoes love me!

She isn’t joking now, though, as she carefully cradles a whimpering Noah. She’s pressing a rag drenched in water to his still-swollen leg, brows pulling together. Jackie wonders why the sight is so unnerving before realizing that Misty is actually upset. She isn’t giggling or talking about how lucky they are or trying to turn this into a bonding experience. Apparently, when it comes to Noah, Misty has a semi-decent bedside manner.

“It’s a really good thing he isn’t allergic,” she continues, “But this is gonna hurt for the next day or so, especially because we don’t have any ice.”

“Can’t we take cold water from the lake?” Shauna asks, frowning down at him.

Misty shakes her head.

“I thought about that, but we don’t want to risk infection.”

Jackie feels her lungs stutter. This could get infected?

“It’s not likely,” Misty assures her, “Especially now that I cleaned it out. But we should try to make sure he doesn’t get stung again. You guys really didn’t hear it buzzing?”

And doesn’t that just make Jackie wish a hole could open up in the floor and suck her straight down to hell. They were so distracted by each other that Noah got hurt, like the stupid horny teenagers who deserve to die first in a horror movie. Jackie kept Shauna from looking out for her son. It’s her fault that Noah was hurt.

Almost every time they take him out into the woods from then on, it’s something: heat rash, sunburn, poison ivy, spider bites, bee stings. Jackie practically glues himself to his side, and refuses to let herself neglect him like that ever again. She can’t help but feel like it’s a punishment – like Noah is being hurt because of her selfishness. She can’t let go of the constant terror, the panic clawing in her gut  every time he sticks his hand down into the grass or babbles contentedly at the rain.

It’s easier at night, when she can be out with Shauna without anxiety over the baby tearing at their insides. She would keep him in the cabin all the time – but now that he’s experienced life outside, he gets fussy whenever they’re cooped up for too long. Jackie can hardly judge him for the claustrophobia. Still, she hears Lottie’s voice every time the sun falls down on the little bald spot where he rubs his head against the fabric of his crib every night. We should probably keep Noah inside.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

“The wilderness hates him,” Jackie bitches to an unamused Nat.

Noah’s just split his lip on a sparkly rock. He managed to jam it halfway into his mouth before Nat stuck her fingers in and saved him from choking to death. Mari, suntanning next to them, had screamed for Jackie first because Shauna’s back at the house with Taissa. Now everyone who was swimming is clustered together on the beach, watching Misty boil some water to clean out the cut.

Nat rolls her eyes, but Misty pulls an exaggerated frown and puts her face next to Noah’s.

“The wilderness doesn’t hate you,” she says in a high, baby-talk type voice, “You’re our wittle heir, aren’t you?”

Jackie feels the same spike of fear that drove through her when she heard Noah crying from the water. She tries to stop her scowl from collapsing in on itself, and probably fails to keep her voice even.

“What do you mean?”

Mari shrugs, completely casual.

“Well, Shauna’s like our Queen, right? And Noah’s her baby.”

“Prince of the Antler Crown,” Misty says.

Her eyes bright as she looks up from the ground at where Noah is whining in Jackie’s arms. From any of the others, it could have been a joke. But Misty’s face is a little too open, her words a little too weighty. She means it in a way that has Jackie hugging him close despite the humidity.

“Even if he is illegitimate,” Mari smirks, poking him in the stomach to make him giggle for a second.

Akilah elbows her with a casual smile that clashes horribly with the fury flaring in Jackie’s chest.

“We should make him a little crown,” Akilah says almost apologetically.

She’s looking at the twist in Jackie’s lips, like she can tell that it signals something bitchy scorching her tongue. Van nods along, stretching her arm around Mari’s to run a finger up the ticklish arch of Noah’s tiny baby foot.

“No such thing as a bastard in the woods,” she adds cheerfully.

Somehow, Jackie isn’t comforted. It isn’t even the Jeff of it all, although that’s always a bitter pill to swallow – albeit one that’s been easier to choke down since Shauna promised that the sex was laughable compared to what they’ve been getting up to lately. Jackie’s sharply hurt on Noah’s behalf, furious at the idea of any part of his existence being considered illegitimate. Like he’s any less Shauna’s son, or the most perfectly innocent human being on the planet, because of it. Like he’s dirty, like he’s less.

The others move on without a thought, making sure that Noah’s alright and then drifting off to complete their chores before sunset. But Jackie can’t seem to get over that word, even when she holds Noah close and assures him that it doesn’t matter what other people think or say about him. It pricks at her while they walk back to the cabin, while they pray, while they eat, while they settle down for Van’s strange story about wolves and blood and starlight.

She blurts it out to Shauna while they’re putting Noah down in his crib. Shauna wrinkles her nose, clearly annoyed, but then shrugs it off.

“I don’t think Mari was implying anything about Noah,” she says wryly.

Still, Jackie shakes her head, frustrated.

“She was, though. Maybe not on purpose, but she still said it. And I don’t– I mean, it isn’t right for Noah to grow up thinking like he isn’t good, or, I don’t know, loved all the way”

Shauna’s lips press together briefly, her fingers curling, but she manages to shake it off again.

“So he won’t,” she says simply, “I mean, Jax, it’s not like there’s much I can do about it. I fucked up, you know that better than anybody. But that isn’t on him. And I don’t regret it, because of him. We’ll make sure that he knows that, won’t we?”

Jackie’s eyebrows are still pulling together, but she sighs. Tries to let the stress out of her spine just like Shauna did.

“Of course we will.”

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

It doesn’t stop bothering her, not really, but she decides to try and let it go. It’s not like holding a grudge out here can do any good. And besides, it’s pretty clear that nobody else thought it was a big deal. Noah won’t even remember – he doesn’t even understand words yet. She’ll just make sure that Mari doesn’t say it again.

But later that night, when the moon is bright enough to wash the room in silvery light, Shauna creeps back into the room smelling like earth and smoke and rain and Shauna underneath it all. She slips into their narrow bed and Jackie smiles sleepily, folding herself into her best friend’s arms.

Shauna yawns, her pearly teeth flashing for a second, before kissing Jackie softly. When she whispers, the exhaustion clings to her vowels.

“Wanna get married?”

 

 

Chapter 28: under blue moon

Jackie jerks up so quickly her shoulder clips Shauna’s chin.

“Ow,” Shauna hisses, “The fuck, Jackie?”

Jackie just gapes at her, her enormous eyes bright and unblinking in the dark. Shauna clamps down on the urge to blush, just barely catching the apology about to trip out of her mouth. It’s incredible, really – all those years of schooling her expressions on instinct, burying herself deep enough that Jackie couldn’t hit on the truth, and just a few months of openness are almost enough for her to forget how.

Almost. She still has enough muscle memory to rub her jaw without making eye contact, to smirk a little as if it can make Jackie forget what she just said. What she just asked.

Of course, Jackie’s never been one to give Shauna an easy way out.

“ You want to get married?,” she squeaks.

She isn’t nearly as decent of a liar, especially not when she’s unnerved. Shauna knots her fingers in the blanket to stop herself from taking Jackie’s tomato-red face in her hands. She bites her tongue to keep from laughing it off; because this isn’t a big deal, really, she didn’t even mean…

“Well, not now, obviously,” she says, cheeks hot, “I mean, or ever, probably, given the whole…”

She gestures vaguely, leaving Jackie to fill in the blanks: the whole not even twenty thing, the whole two girls thing, the whole trapped in the wilderness thing. Not to mention the fact that they still haven’t told the others about this thing blossoming between them, sinking its roots in impossibly deeper. They wouldn’t even have a witness, let alone an officiant.

“And, you know, it’s not like it would be for us.”

Jackie unfreezes to splutter at her, the bridge of her nose beginning to pinch.

“Uh, I’m sorry? Who else would we get– married for?”

There’s a seething, panicked spite squeezing up Shauna’s throat. Shauna trains her gaze on Jackie’s right leg, the mottled strips of scar tissue rising to reach the moonlight; the spit up stains littering her shirt; the line of purple blotches blooming over her collarbone, down her thighs. Proof, and a reminder.

“Noah,” she forces herself to shrug.

Jackie’s silence gives Shauna the time to muster enough courage to look her in the eyes. The only emotion she can read in them is confusion.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” she says, “About what Mari said. And I’ve been thinking about you and Noah, how you are with him. What you’ve done for us. And it made me realize – Noah can’t illegitimate, because he isn’t just mine. He’s yours, Jax. And everyone else should see it.”

Jackie’s still for a moment longer, and then she shudders, her shoulders curling in as she heaves in a breath. Shauna reaches for her, pulling her close to look for whatever is hurting her, making her cry, but Jackie just jams the crown of her head against Shauna’s breastbone.

“I’m sorry,” Shauna finally says, heartbeat thundering in her ears, “It’s nothing, I’m just tired, don’t worry about it–”

But Jackie is shaking her head without lifting it, her unkempt hair brushing Shauna’s chin.

“You mean it?” Jackie gasps.

She’s flushed, desperate. Insecure. The panic uncoils from around Shauna’s ribs, and the bitterness loses its sting. Something warm takes their place, something luminous, heating its way from her heart to her smile.

“Are you kidding? Of course I mean it, Jackie, he wouldn’t even be alive without you. Like, at all.”

Jackie giggles, only half hysterical, and then pulls back to gaze down into his crib. Her look is raw, honest, full of frightened want. Shauna’s lungs tighten in recognition of the longing etched into the lines of Jackie’s face. Her heart splits open, ventricles tearing, spiderweb cracks spurting blood.

“I don’t want,” Jackie lies shakily, “I don’t want to take him. I know he’s yours.”

Self-disgust swarms in Shauna’s brain, and she shakes her head to clear it away, reaching out to take Jackie’s hand in hers.

“I never should’ve said that. I’m sorry, okay? He is mine. But he can be ours, too.”

A choked noise sounds out from Jackie as her head jerks through a nod.

“Yeah?,” Shauna asks, letting a smile settle on her lips.

“Yeah,” Jackie sniffs, “Can I–”

Her hands twitch towards Noah’s crib before stopping uselessly in the air.

“Of course. You don’t have to ask, alright?”

Jackie laughs, her breath hitching, and reaches down to bring Noah to her chest. He huffs, his little mouth twitching, but doesn’t wake up as she presses a kiss to the top of his head. He’s a good sleeper, Shauna’s baby.

Their baby. Hers and Jackie’s.

Jackie is crying with Shauna’s son in her arms, and he’s their son – alive and breathing because of both of them. Shauna’s body and Jackie’s love, Shauna’s milk and Jackie’s blood. Jackie wasn’t going to take him, but Shauna’s given him, because they’re in this together. The three of them, they’re together.

Shauna moves closer, close enough that Jackie can fall back into her arms, close enough that she can rest her hand against Noah’s back. She can feel both of them breathing, her family, and her heart pounds hard enough to stitch itself back together. It’s just them against the whole world.

They stay like that for a while, wrapped up tight, but eventually Jackie shifts to wipe away her tears.

“So you don’t really want to marry me.”

The corner of Shauna’s lip twitches up at the humor in her hoarse voice.

“I don’t not want to marry you.”

Jackie twists out of her arms, but only so that they can face each other.

“You’re just using me for child support,” she teases, and Shauna snorts.

“Please. I’m using this entire cabin for child support. I’m using you for your body.”

The affronted gasp she’s met with is undercut by Jackie’s beaming smile, and the way she leans closer. Shauna rests a hand on her knee, just because she can. Because she knows this teasing for what it is now – this is Jackie flirty, not friendly, just more comfortable than Shauna ever saw her with Jeff. Her shoulders are loose, her eyes happy, their baby cradled against her chest.

“Don’t you want to make it official?”

Shauna raises her eyebrows at the genuine hope in Jackie’s expression. She proposed marriage on an exhausted whim, and she wasn’t lying; it was really more of an adoption offer. She hadn’t expected Jackie to be actually into the idea.

“Come on, Jax. My parents were married – yours still are. It’s not like it would change anything for us.”

Except make whatever this is, the raging fire at Shauna’s core, sound boring. Marriage, in her experience, is just an unoriginal label slapped over suburban mundanity. It doesn’t belong out here. It certainly doesn’t belong between her and Jackie.

But Jackie pouts, her eyebrows furrowing.

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t mind being Jackie Shipman.”

And, oh. The electricity jolting through Shauna at that is the opposite of boring. Jackie Shipman. Jesus Christ. Shauna needs Noah put down immediately; she needs the bed empty for what she’s about to do to her best friend.

She was never brave enough to scrawl it in her notebooks, but she used to imagine how the loops of that name would look under her gel pens. Now she’s imagining what the smooth skin of Jackie’s thighs will look like after Shauna’s tongue has traced it against her. Jackie Shipman.

Everyone in the world will know that she’s Shauna’s, only Shauna’s, and not even death could part them from that.

“Sure,” Shauna says, her voice embarrassingly croaky.

Jackie’s smirk swells into a smile when Shauna sits up straight, criss-cross applesauce like they’re five again. Shauna kisses her once, quick, and then pulls back before she loses herself in it. She rips off a fraying strip of her flannel, then twists it into a thin thread. Jackie laughs quietly, confused, and Shauna shushes her while she fumbles to tie the cloth.

“Right,” she says, “Jackie Taylor. I, Shauna Shipman, take you in sickness and in health–”

Jackie breathes in sharp. It’s half a joke; Jackie is shaking her head, and a giggle is bubbling in Shauna’s throat, but Jackie’s eyes are wet as she slots her hand into Shauna’s.

“For richer or for poorer. I am yours and you are mine.”

The threadbare ring slides easily onto Jackie’s ring finger, settling at the base like Shauna’s hands knew the exact right measurements. Jackie stares at it, shining like the sun, light and heat and eternity with bad breath and sleeper’s gunk crusting in the corners of her eyelids. Shauna loves her, loves her, loves her.

“You’re mine,” Jackie says, her raspy whisper sweet and soft, “And I’m yours.”

It shouldn’t feel so real. There’s no chuppah, no wilderness ceremony. Jackie’s wearing the tattered remnants of her soccer shorts and butterfly shirt; Shauna is covered in dirt and scrapes and her hair is tangled with twigs. The only witness is their (their) infant son, and he’s still fast asleep. But kissing Jackie now feels like a vow, a covenant; like the blossoming of something eternal. Something sacred.

Baruch Atah Adonai, Shauna thinks giddily, a supernova starbursting through her chest, and pulls back to lift Noah out of Jackie’s arms. She makes it to the edge of the bed on her knees and sets him gently down into his stick-and-bone crib, draping a thin blanket overtop.

Jackie pulls her back immediately, sunlight embodied, fire trailing from her fingertips. Shauna presses her down onto the bed, heart thudding as she lifts Jackie’s shirt over her head. Jackie laughs, breathless and wondering, and arches her back as Shauna kisses down her heaving chest to pull off her shorts, because it’s the same laugh Jackie’s always had, the one Shauna has lived by since they were five years old.

Shauna used to resent it, she knows, lurking in the shadowy backdrop of Jackie’s shining sun. But now they’re women writhing in the moonlight, and Jackie is naked and wanting beneath her, Shauna’s Jackie, Jackie Shipman, as long as they both shall live.

When they collapse against each other for the last time, the brilliant red of dawn is spilling through the window; stained glass, blood in the snow, the first buds of spring, crimson coloring Jackie’s high cheekbones. Shauna drapes her arm over Jackie’s waist and settles down into the warm heaviness of sleep.

“I expect a real ring, you know,” Jackie murmurs with her eyes closed.

Shauna hides her smile in her best friend’s skin, scooching impossibly closer as Jackie rests her freezing hands against Shauna’s breastbone, and falls asleep without knowing where she ends and she begins.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Noah wakes them up what feels like seconds later.

He still sleeps through the night, which Shauna is eternally grateful for; there were more than a few sleep-deprived winter hours when she had come terrifyingly close to hurting him, just for one moment of silence. There was always someone to hand him off to when her hand seized with the ache to shake him or hit him – to do something, anything, to get him to shut up.

She’ll be remembering those close calls with a violent mixture of panic and hatred for the rest of her life, but they melted away with the snow. Shauna’s self aware enough to recognize that it has more to do with his sleep schedule than any parental growth. She's killed him in dreams twice this week.

He sleeps, though, all through the night.

Tragically, that doesn't extend into the morning. Shauna's pulled back to consciousness by his reedy wailing, which means he’s been babbling without response for at least fifteen minutes. Jackie groans, burrowing into Shauna’s hair, before rolling over to grab him. Shauna sighs at the sudden absence, keeping her eyes shut in an attempt to savor the last seconds of sleep.

“Hi, baby,” Jackie says, her voice soft as the morning light as she babbles at him, “My baby, huh? Are you my baby, Noah? Yeah, there you go, shhh, here you go. Your Mama's right here, see? And so am I.”

Shauna huffs again, willing her bones to solidify, and sits up to a throbbing headache. Noah’s warm weight drops into her arms, grounding her alongside Jackie’s exhausted grin.

“Good morning, Shipman.”

She crawls back into bed, letting Shauna lean against her shoulder as she thumbs Noah’s head. He has less hair now than when he was born, his pretty little curls gone thin and silky with a bald spot in the back. He’s still just as cute.

“Morning yourself. Shipman.”

Jackie’s beaming is brighter than the sunrise.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

The next time Shauna drifts back to consciousness, morning has passed into noonday. She can hear the others stirring in the main room, beginning their chores and laughing at how disheveled they all are after last night. Jackie’s perched on the end of the bed, Noah fussing in her arms. She’s already taken him outside; there are traces of mud on the shoddy, sleeveless onesie Akilah fashioned out of a beaver pelt weeks ago.

She’ll reach over to wake Shauna up for his feeding soon, but for now she sings to him, low and loving.

“A whole life so lonely, and then you come and ease the pain…”

Shauna lays still to keep Jackie from noticing that she’s awake. The song is a relic of before the before, when they were just girls in the suburbs. Shauna lets memory wash over her for the first time in weeks, carrying her out of the woods and back to a time when Shauna’s whole world was Wiskayok: her house, their school, the rec field downtown. JackieandShauna, age ten, when Jackie started really listening to music. The details are fading fast, and she can’t be sure of how it started, but Shauna remembers a boombox in the corner of Jackie’s room and three plastic bins of cassettes under her bed. Dancing around her room, belting New Kids on the Block loud enough for the neighbors to hear because Jackie’s parents were out late. Music at sleepovers, in the backyard, during carpools.

This song was her very favorite, burned into Shauna’s brain by the hundreds of car rides spent blasting 91.5 (New Jersey’s Top 30!) on the way to school. Back then it meant clinical insanity pounding against Shauna’s temples as sunrise distorted the windshield of her mother’s Oldsmobile or the Taylors’ Mercedes.

Now, Jackie’s worn-out singing for Noah is the most beautiful sound in the world. It’s stupid, but saltwater springs in Shauna’s eyes. She can’t seem to stop crying lately.

This quiet little moment is so gentle, so domestic, that Shauna lies still until Jackie finishes the song. She wishes she could stop the world right here, let it linger long enough to see them through the hard months ahead.

Instead she pulls herself up and stretches her arms out to take Noah.

“I got him,” she sighs, “Yeah, kid, I got you.”

He coos, reaching up to tangle his fist in her hair while she feeds him. Jackie hums, smiling, but her lips are pulled taut. Shauna frowns at the paleness of them, the disturbance of their happiness. That’s a look like winter; it doesn’t belong here in the sticky summer heat.

Jackie drops her gaze down to her lap, where she’s fidgeting with something Shauna has to crane her head to see. It’s a discolored leaf, brittle and yellow-brown, old bruises and dried blood. Shauna’s pulse stutters, just for a moment, and there’s a sharp chill in the air and Jackie is slamming the door closed, red and orange and bare branches behind her.

And then Jackie lets the leaf fall between her fingers and drift down to the floor.

“Hey,” Shauna says, “It’s okay.”

It’s just one leaf from a dying tree. The forest is a riot of green and teeming with life, the lake warm enough to swim in, the sun beating down so that even inside Shauna’s got sweat beading at her hairline. They’ve got weeks left of summer, at least, and then fall. They have time.

Time to try and stock up for winter. Time for all of them make whatever preparations they can while the days are still long enough. Time for Jackie and Shauna to tell the others about the two of them. Time to eat well and sleep well and enjoy the fruits of the land they've come to live on.

“Yeah,” Jackie smiles halfheartedly, “I know.”

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

That night, Shauna wakes to fire.

 

 

Notes:

Alright I am SO sorry for how long this took, it's been a crazy few months but I'm going to get back to semi-regular updates if it kills me >:( Anyway, hope you enjoyed the fluff!! There won't be much more of it lol

Chapter 29: the killing moon

There’s smoke in Shauna’s lungs.

There’s smoke everywhere: coating her skin, curling in her nostrils, stinging her eyes when she pries them open. But it burns the worst in her heaving chest, forcing her to hack and cough against Jackie’s shoulder. Jackie’ll worry if I’m sick, she thinks deliriously, and then: Jackie.

Shauna jerks out of Jackie’s arms to find the world flickering, a hazy horrifying orange. The others are screaming through the door, their voices distorted under the roaring crackle of wood devoured, the explosive shattering of glass. She coughs again, so hard it bends her body, but Jackie doesn’t stir.

“Jackie,” she wheezes, shaking her, “Jackie,” and for a second she’s on the plane, in the snow, everything is twisting and ending and Jackie isn’t moving, why isn’t Jackie moving, please, why can’t she just move–

And then Jackie coughs, blinking in bewilderment, and her wide eyes jolt something in Shauna’s chest. Suddenly she’s standing, pulling Jackie with her, checking the cradle, grabbing her bag from the ground, and there’s something missing, there’s something–

“What,” Jackie starts, and then the baby’s crying splits the air, piercing through the roar around them.

Shauna looks just long enough to watch Jackie bend over to grab him, then whirls back around to find a way out. They have to get out. The whole door to the main room is ablaze, fire lapping at the ceiling, dark shadows writhing behind the flames. The walls are glowing, hotter than the summer sun, but their window still hasn’t shattered.

She takes a running start and rams it with her shoulder, biting back a groan at the heat scorching through her shirt, and then pulls back to hammer against the spiderweb cracks with bloody knuckles until the glass gives out.

“Go,” she screams, pulling Noah out of Jackie’s arms, “Come on!”

It takes a moment for her to understand, but Jackie flings herself through the window. She wails as she wriggles through and Shauna’s heart seizes, but then Jackie’s in the grass outside reaching back for them. There’s fire all around, licking up around the window frame, but the gap is still big enough to fit through without catching. Shauna half-throws Noah, bundled up in Lottie’s blanket, and then her bag, and then she grips the wood to pull herself through.

But there’s something missing, something they need. Someone screams again, clearer now, and through the smoke Shauna sees the others running up behind Jackie. It makes her memory click into place: the knife. Shauna can’t leave without her knife.

“Shauna,” Jackie cries, her face covered in soot, but Shauna is already turning back.

She grabs a blanket off the bed, throwing it around herself as she reaches. The knife was under her pillow. If she can just–

There’s a final scream, Jackie’s this time, and then a noise like the end of the world – the wrenching of wood, thunder and boulders, a flying flaming rock crashing into earth – and Shauna is thrown into black.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

The world is hazy. The floor is hard.

Someone is keening outside, just barely audible amid the burning. It might be someone she loves, but she can’t muster up the strength to get up and comfort them. She thinks she wants to. She thinks, really, that she’s dying.

A man crouches in front of her, his face shadowed, familiar in its shadows. Il a nos yeux. Her fingers twitch towards him. He rests a hand on her smoldering hair.

“It will not stop,” he murmurs, his voice the flames, “Il nous veut tous.”

She closes her eyes, salt stinging as it dries. He sang once, over a cradle. When she speaks it’s a whimper.

“Je sais. Je sais. Please.”

These walls are his. A branch creeps through the sparking, sparkling dust of the window. He closes his eyes.

“Un échange,” he says.

She doesn’t hold back her sob. She wants him to hear it.

An enormity tumbles in the main room. She can feel the sky falling through, starlight on smoking stone. It’s been waiting so long to be let in.

She closes her eyes, pressing her nose against the splintered wood. Thank you. When she opens them again, the man is gone. The edges of the room are dimming, the darkness growing deeper, her mind going and going and–

“Holy shit,” Van’s voice says, “Guys–”

Cold gray light filters through the blanket over Shauna’s body. She’s lying curled on the ground, knees pulled tight to her chest. The return to consciousness has her gasping at the pain that blazes from her right shoulder blade down to her elbow. She coughs and eases herself into a sitting position, letting the blanket fall away, and finds nine girls gaping at her in the charred remains of the cabin.

Jackie, leaning on Nat with Noah clutched against her chest, blinks like she's clearing out her eyes. She looks like the blackened wreckage: burned out. Hollow. Shauna's fingers, pressed against the floor, spasm towards her.

“No fucking way,” Mari whispers.

There’s a circle of wood around Shauna, where the blanket must have fallen over her. Brown blood stains the ground where her shoulder pressed against it, but the floorboards are otherwise free of damage. Shauna scrambles up, her heart pounding, only to freeze when everyone else flinches away.

Lottie falls to her knees, pressing a hand to the fire-ravaged stone, kicking up a puff of dark ash. Melissa and Gen follow her, and then Misty and Mari and Akilah, until half of them are kneeling before her in awe. Shauna’s too dizzy to feel much of anything about it.

“Shauna?” Tai breathes, tears in her eyes.

Jackie launches herself into Shauna’s arms.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Nobody died.

Shauna repeats it to herself over and over as they pick their way through the still-smoking wreckage, the sun beating down in what she knows must be one of the last days of true summer. She tries to be grateful for it as they tend to each others’ burns – all relatively minor – and take stock of their meager supplies. All of them made it out of the fire. Noah is unhurt. This could all be worse.

How much worse, though, is a matter of bitter internal debate. Noah won’t stop coughing. Shauna’s back and arm, like Jackie’s hips and legs, are scraped and burned enough that Misty is clearly worried about infection. There’s a thin burn around Jackie’s ring finger, the line of Shauna’s flannel string imprinted red against her skin, that sends Misty’s eyebrows halfway up her forehead.

Jackie won’t stop touching Shauna, hovering at her side like she’s afraid to step far enough away to let go of her shirt. Shauna hasn’t seen her this far gone since before Noah was born – and the others don’t look much better. They stumble around aimlessly with empty eyes, covered in soot.

The cabin is a hollowed-out shell of black char, the roof collapsed onto the floor, and other than what they grabbed on the way out there’s nothing salvageable. They’re right back to square one, exposed to the elements with only vague hopes for shelter, and this time they know exactly how bad winter will be.

For the first time in months, everyone is hushed and hopeless. And they’re looking to Shauna. Shauna, burned and bloodied and on the verge of tears. Shauna, digging her nails into Jackie’s wrist with no fucking idea what they’re supposed to do next.

Shauna, who they chose.

They loved her as Queen through the soft spring, the bright summer. They gave her the best of their meat, wove her crowns of bones and branches, guarded her son while she worked or slept or laid Jackie out beneath her. They placed their trust in her, and now she needs to lead them into the winter.

Shauna lets them sift through the ash and ruin long enough to be sure that there’s nothing for them here. And then she stands outside, in the center of the ring of trees that’s been guarding them all these months, and calls them to her.

“Alright,” she says, “This sucks.”

Lottie smiles, a grin as strange as the rest of her, and Gen giggles nervously.

“I’m not gonna lie to you and say everything’s fine, because it isn’t. We all know how bad this could be.”

She surveys them, dirty and frightened and still alive. Misty, who just finished wrapping Jackie’s leg; Akilah, staring at the ground with an arm around a tear-stained Mari; Melissa and Gen, drinking in Shauna’s words like they’re dying of thirst; Nat gripping the rifle, their lifeline; that awful light in Lottie’s eyes; Van and Tai, with angry red gashes around their wrists, leaning on each other. Jackie sitting on a log, hissing through her teeth every time she breathes but still bouncing Noah in her arms. Shauna’s girls, Shauna’s girl, and Shauna’s son.

She will not let this kill them.

“But nothing has been fine, not since we got here. We're alive. We’ve survived worse, alright? We’re going to get through this.”

“How?” Melissa asks, quiet enough that Shauna knows it’s a plea rather than a challenge.

She keeps her chin high, her voice even.

“We’ve got enough supplies to make camp here for a while. And it isn’t even fall yet, alright? We have time to find a better shelter.”

She turns to Tai.

“Do you remember the cave where we found Coach Ben?”

Tai’s spine straightens, just slightly, as she nods.

“We didn’t really explore it,” Shauna admits, “But it’s something. You got us there once. Can you find it again, scout it out?”

Tai hesitates, but nods again.

"Yeah," she says, "Yeah, I can do that."

"I'll go with her," Van cuts in.

The wind changes shift, just slightly, blowing sweat-stuck hair off of Shauna’s neck. Noah babbles something unintelligible, and Jackie gives him a wobbly smile.

“Nat’ll keep an eye out as she hunts,” Shauna says, "And in the meantime we'll set up here."

“Gen and I can check out the plane,” Melissa adds, her hat twisting between her hands as Gen nods next to her.

They’re coming back to life now; nobody wants to sleep in a cave, she knows, but Shauna’s giving them a way forward. She braces herself to direct them, to leave the place where she’s lived and slept and felt almost safe for more than a year – the place where she survived labor, and first held Noah, and first kissed Jackie. The place where she was chosen to lead them; where she finally became someone.

It'll be hard to go, but they can’t stay here long. It’s too exposed, even without the weather to worry about, and it’ll only get more dangerous as the winter approaches. Shauna shoves away the memory of icy skin under her hands, eyelids frosted shut. That’s not happening again. She won’t let it.

She squares her shoulders and keeps speaking, keeps pulling them out of the ashes.

Slowly, they rise to meet her.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

“Ugh,” Mari complains, “Nobody thought to grab the matches?”

She’s crouching next to the fire pit, a plate of Shauna’s meat on the log next to her. Only Shauna is still in the clearing with her, trying to nurse Noah as the sun sinks lower into a darkening sky; everyone else is still out, searching for shelter or gathering supplies. Even Jackie, although she only agreed to pull herself away from Shauna long enough to grab some water from the lake.

Mari grumbles, setting up the stick and wood like Akilah showed them, and Shauna tunes her out. She has enough to worry about.

Noah won’t stop crying. He isn’t used to being outside for so long, and he’s already covered in bug bites. They’ve got him in an animal hide diaper, but they’ll be running so low on extra cloth now Shauna figures he’ll just have to go pantless whenever possible. He's too good to wail at the discomfort, but he keeps letting out these miserable little whimpers as Shauna vision bleeds into a furious red. She doesn't know how to help him, how to comfort him.

She tries to focus beyond it, and the pain in her shoulder that spikes with every breath. She’ll have to make their choice: stay here and recuperate for a while, or move out for a new shelter tomorrow? They’ll have to sleep in shifts tonight, to keep watch on the woods. They can’t afford an attack from some wild animal, or the risk of being caught unawares by a storm.

Jackie proposed that the three of them sleep in the meat shed tonight, or at least Shauna and Noah, but Shauna doesn’t feel right leaving the others outside. Besides, the cold won’t be dangerous. Yet.

Mari manages to get a fire started and Noah finally stops crying long enough to eat before Tai and Van come back into the clearing. They stop just long enough to grab some berries before Tai pulls Shauna away toward the tree line. Shauna hands Noah off to Van and lets herself be guided.

“It’s pretty easy to find,” Tai says as soon as they're out of Mari's earshot, “Not too far from the lake, definitely big enough to fit us all. The opening's a little big, and there are these tunnels in the back that spooked Van, but we could probably close them up somehow. If we–”

“You can’t come with us,” Shauna interrupts.

Tai blinks at her, caught completely off guard.

“What?”

There’s a mountain-sized rock in Shauna’s throat. This is Tai – the girl who’s seen through her in a way nobody else, not even Jackie, has ever been able to. The girl who offered to stick a wire up her cervix, who held Shauna when she couldn't go through with it, who walked her through a blizzard and got her through labor. They’ve laughed together, hunted together, slept beneath the same blankets. Shauna loves Taissa. She trusts Taissa.

But she can’t trust the other one.

“We’re going to the cave,” she says, determined not to break eye contact, “But you can’t come.”

“Wh- What? Shauna. What the hell are you talking about?”

Shauna folds her arms over her chest as if it’ll stop her heart from slopping onto the ground.

“Tai,” she sighs, “The matches are in your pocket.”

Tai takes a half step back, hurt and anger dwarfed by the panic plain in her eyes. She shakes her head like she’s trying to get water out of her ears.

“Wait,” she says, “You think I– what, burned the fucking cabin down? Shauna. I wouldn’t, alright? I couldn’t, not even–”

Shauna steps closer, bringing her hand out to grab Tai’s. She needs to keep her close; she needs her to understand.

“We both know you aren’t the one to worry about.”

The ridges of Tai’s wrist are rough with rope burn under Shauna’s spliced-open fingers. The door to the main room burned first. Shauna asked Natalie; everyone was downstairs when the fire started. Nobody was up in the attic.

Tai closes her eyes.

“You have to make it sound like it's your choice,” Shauna says, “Okay? I won’t tell anyone, I swear, and you can take rations like the rest of us. But I can’t let you stay with us at night. I can’t risk Noah like that. I need you to promise you’ll go.”

Tai shakes her head again, the movement smaller this time. Her eyelashes are wet.

“It wasn’t me,” she says, hoarse, “I would never.”

“I know. But I need you to promise.”

Tai opens her eyes. Shudders in the sunlight. And she promises.

Just like that, Shauna gives her best friend to the wilderness.

Notes:

this is NOT taissa turner hate!!! never in this household!!! other tai is just trying to keep as many of them as possible alive and she’s going to be FINE, I promise I swear

Chapter 30: eyes like ice don't move

“You know,” Jackie whispers, her hair glinting in the firelight, “This is almost romantic.”

Shauna snorts, pushing her face closer to Jackie’s. They’re lying next to the low heat of the firepit, across from the other girls, curled together for warmth with Noah nestled between them. Everyone else but Gen, who’s on watch, is probably asleep. Still, Shauna keeps her voice soft. Just in case.

“Right,” she says, wry, “The cold dirt is really doing it for me.”

Not to mention the pebbles jutting into her thigh. As wary as she is over the prospect of permanent resettlement, she won’t miss these sleeping arrangements when they move to the caves tomorrow.

Jackie grins, nudging Shauna with an elbow carefully positioned to avoid jostling Noah. He sleeps on, blissfully unaware, as Shauna exhales a laugh.

“You know what I mean,” Jackie murmurs, “Sleeping under the stars.”

Shauna hums, content enough with Jackie’s arm resting over her stomach to avoid mentioning how she keeps checking the baby for bugs.

“Not the worst honeymoon,” she says.

It’s a joke, of course, because it’s not as if they’re actually married – and even if they were, the odds of Jackie choosing camping over a European palace are near nonexistent. Still, a vicious pride sparks in her at the sight of Jackie’s blushing.

The marriage might not be valid, the honeymoon might be a desperate joke – but this part is real. Jackie curled up next to her, their baby sighing in his sleep as Shauna keeps watch; that’s not going anywhere. Shauna got this, even after everything. She got them. She won.

“I’ll need a new ring,” Jackie pouts around the smile pulling at her lips.

Shauna pulls her girl’s hand up to gaze at the thin line of pink around her ring finger. Tiny blisters circle the place where Shauna’s string used to be, but it doesn’t look too serious. They’ll probably heal within the week, like most of the burns they’ve all had out here.

The thought of the line fading is uncomfortably upsetting. Maybe Shauna will have to find Jackie a ring.

“I guess everybody’ll figure it out, then,” she says, and Jackie hums sleepily.

They settle back into the quiet, Jackie’s eyelashes drifting down beneath the swaying trees. Noah makes a little huffing noise, his tiny nose scrunching and then relaxing again.

Shauna’s a little surprised to find that she wouldn’t mind if the others found out about her and Jackie – not that half of them haven’t already. Shauna talked to Tai about it in the winter, before she knew that Jackie could ever love her back. Jackie apparently blurted it out to Nat right after their real kiss, and Van had figured it out soon enough. None of their attitudes changed, other than the addition of some friendly teasing.

The revelation probably won’t change anything for the rest of them, either, even with winter slowly creeping closer. The team is loyal to Shauna, and to Noah, and it would be impossible not to see how Jackie cares for them both. Mari already bitches halfheartedly about Jackie’s special treatment, but Shauna isn’t worried about it.

And, well, she meant what she said to Jackie when they exchanged vows – she wants everyone to know that she’s family. That she belongs to Shauna and Noah, and that they’re hers in return. The sneaking around was sort of thrilling, which is why she let it last this long, but it can’t last forever.

“So,” she says, “What kind of ring do you want?”

Jackie’s eyes stay closed, but her smile is bright enough to light up the entire night sky.

The next morning, Shauna waits until everyone else is up to stretch her way awake. She finds Jackie across the camp, changing Noah’s diaper, and kisses her good-morning.

Van wolf-whistles; Misty claps; Shauna pulls away. Jackie turns beet red and smiles dazedly. Melissa, braiding Gen’s hair, gives an enthusiastic thumbs up from a nearby log. Tai rolls her eyes, her lips quirked up.

“Wait,” Mari says, “Were we not supposed to know about that?”

Akilah rolls her eyes, grinning, and drags her off towards the treeline.

“Seriously,” Mari hisses, “They kept hooking up, like, right–”

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Lottie joyfully babysits a fussing Noah while the others work. They pack up quickly, organizing and reorganizing before the sun has travelled far in the sky. Nobody feels like hiking at high noon; Shauna’s just hoping that they make it to the caves before Noah develops a heat rash.

Everyone keeps shooting Tai and Van questioning glances. Shauna won’t send them all the way to the plane, but Tai’s going to be building a makeshift shelter for the two of them about fifteen minutes away from the caves. Shauna cooked up an excuse about Tai being a sort of watchman for the team, but it’s flimsy at best. Nobody has questioned it, but she can tell they aren’t thrilled about splitting up.

Taissa is avoiding the watching eyes with her typical determination, her jaw set and expression fearless, but Shauna knows that she’s afraid. Van seems surprisingly stoic, more focused on making Tai smile than worrying about exposure to the elements.

Akilah offered to go with them, but Tai turned her down. Shauna’s grateful for it – mostly because she doesn’t want to send away any more of her team, but also because Akilah’s girl scout skills have proved invaluable. She’ll probably provide them with more food this winter than Nat, thanks to the rabbits and ducks and beavers she’s been raising in a pen mercifully detached from their burned-down cabin.

Gen is dousing the fire per what she can remember of Smokey Bear’s instructions when Shauna addresses them.

“Alright,” she says, “This is it.”

She surveys the girls in front of her, standing strong as they wait to follow her lead, and then starts off through the trees.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

The cave is significantly less comfortable than the cabin.

They fashion a door for the front entrance, which is hardly visible regardless, but with the tunnels sprawling out behind them Shauna feels far from sheltered. It’s dark even with their fire pit flickering, smells dank and damp, and has odd echoes that leave everyone jumpy. It’s better than the forest floor, but Shauna quickly grows nostalgic for the dead cabin guy’s musty old mattress.

Worst of all, the air seems to be hurting Noah. He hasn’t stopped occasionally coughing since the fire, which is terrifying enough, but now there’s a rattling whistle in every one of his exhales. He grizzles like he can’t gather enough air to cry in earnest, leaving Jackie pale and Shauna burning with panic. Misty thinks that it might be the beginnings of asthma, a horror they never thought to anticipate.

Still, she can’t bring herself to order them all back outside. Everyone knows what the woods have to offer: angry red scars on Van’s face, misshapen stumps where Jackie’s toes used to be. Javi’s little body, still curled up against the snow.

The cave will have to work.

They settle into a new routine fairly easily, taking turns cooking and cleaning and watching the baby. Shauna does what she can to prepare them for winter: has Gen set traps that her older brother learned in boy scouts, oversees Mari’s experiments in hanging up the plants they cook to preserve them, helps Akilah start to set up lodgings for the animals in the chamber next to theirs. Natalie takes Gen out with her to hunt, something Jackie had to talk her into after Travis’ death. Everyone spends as much time outside as possible, and Tai and Van spend most of their days at the camp.

Shauna feels like shit every time they leave for the night. But as she drifts off to sleep with Noah beside her, she can't bring herself to regret it.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

About a week after moving, Lottie suggests that they explore the rest of the caves.

“Just to see,” she frowns in explanation.

It’s not the worst idea – Shauna doesn’t particularly love how much of their new home is shrouded in shadow. Also, the scary stories they’ve been telling before bed in Van’s absence have featured a statistically improbable amount of bats. Mari’s insistence on covering her head with a blanket every night isn’t easing anyone’s fears of claws in their hair, but this expedition might.

Nobody’s chomping at the bit to take a lantern and head out, so Shauna ends up volunteering herself and Jackie. They start off in the middle of the day after handing Noah off to Gen’s care, and Lottie trails quietly behind them.

The other girls’ voices fade quickly. The stone passageways narrow quickly, pressing in around them, and the sound of water dripping from somewhere reminds Shauna of an old torture method.

Lottie hums under her breath, adding to the spooky atmosphere, and Jackie presses a little closer to Shauna’s back. Shauna recognizes the tune – Down in the underground, You’ll find someone true…

“Lottie,” Shauna says, as politely as she can muster, “Knock it off.”

“Sorry,” Lottie whispers.

Her silence is even more unnerving. Fantastic.

Jackie stumbles behind her, then hisses as she leans down to examine the scratch on her knee. She scowls up at Shauna, her ponytail frizzing adorably in the lantern’s light, and for a moment none of this is the slightest bit scary.

“I want a diamond ring,” Jackie grouses as they start up again, “Two carats at least. With an oval cut, and rubies on the sides.”

Shauna grins into the dark, looking back to find Lottie smiling with her.

“My birthstone, huh?”

Jackie rolls her eyes in response, her foot splashing down into a puddle.

“And I want a gold band…”

She trails off, her eyes glazing over as Lottie snaps to attention. A draft blows through the tunnel, making the lantern light flicker, and Shauna shivers. It’s too cold for shorts, she realizes, this far from the sun.

Lottie steps forward, staring over Shauna’s shoulder. Shauna follows her gaze to find a low, tight passage.

“We should turn back,” Shauna says, just as the drums start.

She flinches, whirling back around to see if the others can hear that impossibility. The song starting up, a song she knows, a voice she recognizes.

“No,” Lottie says, “Just a little farther.”

She squeezes past Jackie, heading for the cave, but Shauna puts a hand out to stop her. The music is getting louder. It’s– it’s the fucking Beatles, those warped vocals, one of her dad’s old records. It can’t be real.  Something is wrong. They have to go back.

It is not dying, It is not dyyyyinggg

She blinks and Lottie is pushing her forwards, pushing her through the crack in the stone, and her lantern sputters out and the music swells in the dark. Someone is coughing to the beat, through the black. Where did Jackie go?

It is not living, It is not liiiivinggg

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Everything is black. Where’s Jackie? It’s cold, so cold, Shauna has to find her or she’ll freeze. Jackie? Jackie? Jackie?

Something tiny pricks at her nose. A sting, sharp and then gone. Shauna struggles to remember the word for it, even though she can see more falling now. Little white dots, swirling down around her through the night. Snow. Snowflakes.

She puts her hands out and up, twirling with the snowflakes, letting them kiss her everywhere. The air burns in her lungs, caresses her hair. She can’t remember why she was afraid before. This is alive. This is where she belongs.

“Shauna?”

She stops her turning to find Jackie, beautiful, standing at the edge of the clearing. A blue blanket is folded over her shoulders. Lights are strung up in the trees behind her, lights like the stars in the sky, pretty trees with bare branches. There’s a fire between Jacke and Shauna, the flames lapping up Jackie’s image, turning her hair into spun gold.

Shauna steps towards the fire, the trees, the girl, but her legs hit something hard. She looks down to find a wooden table laden with food – blackened toes, sizzling strips of skin, a chunk of hair on a porcelain plate. A feast, and Shauna is starving.

In her hand is a bit of flesh, the delicate curve of a bloody ear. Shauna cradles it carefully, running her thumb over its soft arch, hungry, hungry, hungry.

“Shauna?” Jackie asks, “Is this your dream, or mine?”

Shauna looks back up at her, considering. There’s a ring on Jackie’s left hand, glinting like ice in the sun.

“Is there a difference?”

Jackie shrugs, hugging her arms to her body, the blanket tucked under her elbows. The snow catches in her wavy hair. Shauna brings the ear to her lips.

“Wait,” Jackie says, suddenly shivering.

“C’mon, Jax,” Shauna rolls her eyes, and then smirks as she remembers, “Shipman. It’s not like you’re gonna miss it.”

Her friend flushes at the nickname, wavering. Her teeth are chattering. But Shauna can warm her up after she’s eaten. They can’t let the baby go hungry.

She widens her eyes, sticks out her lower lip. Pouting. Shauna learned from the best.

“Just a taste?”

Jackie bites her lip, but relents. Her arms unfold. Her fingertips are staining themself blue.

“Okay," she says, "It's okay."

The piece of ear crunches under her teeth, exploding with flavor so rich Shauna moans. She’s reaching for more before she’s even done chewing, shoving the meat on the table into her mouth, starving and eating and starving and eating. Toes, skin, hair, bones — she doesn’t relent until it’s all safe inside of her. Until her fingers have been licked clean and she’s finally, finally satiated.

When she looks up, Jackie is frozen solid.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Shauna coughs awake. Jackie is hacking up a lung next to her, Lottie still unconscious at their feet. They’re back in a wider, drier passageway.

"What—"

“Gas,” Jackie gasps, “There was gas in there.”

Shauna pulls herself into a sitting position, wiping the tears from her eyes, and checks Lottie’s pulse. It’s still pounding away, so she lets herself collapse back against the cave wall. Jackie must have pulled them out somehow, even with her bad leg and the poison in the air.

“How did you know?” Shauna wheezes.

“Your lanterns,” Jackie says, wiping away the hair plastered to her face, “They flickered like the Bunsen burners at school, remember? When we turned up the gas in chem?”

If Shauna’s ever thanked God for anything, it’s the stupidity of Jeff Sadecki and Randy Walsh. Jackie was never exactly tuned into chemistry, but Jeff and Randy used to love dicking around with the flames. Shauna can’t believe she didn’t think of it; she pulls Jackie into a fervent kiss in thanks for her brilliance.

“I had the worst dream,” Shauna says, keeping her hand tangled in Jackie’s shirt.

She hasn’t had a nightmare that realistic since the days after Noah’s birth. Her breath is still strained, even with Jackie resting a hand against her neck, and it isn’t just because of the oxygen loss.

“You were there,” she continues, and Jackie manages a pathetic smile.

“Yeah? What was I wearing?”

Shauna snorts, shocked out of her terror, and elbows Jackie as she giggles hysterically at her own joke.

“Snow, asshole. You were wearing snow.”

And then Jackie is shaking with laughter, falling forwards against Shauna. Lottie stirs, groaning unceremoniously, and something bubbles in Shauna’s throat.

“Dirty,” Jackie gasps.

Shauna loses it.  None of this is even the slightest bit funny, but she cackles harder than she has in months.

Lottie stirs on the hard ground, her long hair haloing around her head.

"What did you see?" Lottie coughs, her eyes bright, "What did It show you?"

That should probably be concerning. It will be concerning, once Shauna’s recovered from the asphyxiation. But for now it just sets her and Jackie off again, sending them spiraling further into slap happy wheezing.

She’s coughing and crying again by the time they stumble back into their chamber of the cave, a still mostly-unconscious Lottie dragged between them.

The others swarm them immediately, panicked, but Shauna just collapses on the ground. Jackie sinks down beside her, and they heave laughter until they run out of breath.

That’s when the screaming starts.

 

 

Notes:

Alright guys, I'm so sorry this took sixty million years but I'm BACK. Hopefully. We'll be getting back into the bad times which is fun :) Hope you liked this chapter, I'd love to hear your thoughts!!

Chapter 31: mine is the morning

The screaming lasts for weeks.

It’s a strange, shrieking call that sounds out randomly throughout the days and nights. It comes from everywhere, from all around them, and from nowhere they can identify. Sometimes it’s faint and other times it’s so close Jackie imagines breath against her neck.

Shauna says there’s a perfectly rational explanation for the sound somewhere out here, bobcats or freaky birds or whatever. Lottie says it’s the Wilderness speaking to them, her eyes empty and her smile wide. Nat says it’s probably nothing to worry about, because none of the animals are leaving.

Jackie doesn’t know what to say about it, isn’t even sure what to think. She’s sort of glad that nobody’s looking to her for answers anymore, because she hasn’t got any. Shauna’s probably right – she’s always been the smarter half of their duo. But…

The screaming is weird. These woods are weird. Jackie doesn’t think it’s totally insane to admit that anymore, not after everything they’ve been through. She isn’t saying there’s some all-powerful god of the wilderness, she isn’t that desperate right now, but. But still.

Of course, most of them are saying there’s some all-powerful god of the wilderness. Everybody participates in the rituals, and Shauna is always careful to show It respect even though Jackie knows she doesn’t really believe. Jackie is grateful, mostly – their faith is part of what keeps Noah and Shauna safe. She worries about Lottie, who keeps going into the cave for ‘visions’ and having Mari pull her out once she’s unconscious. But otherwise the woo-woo stuff is harmless, if not helpful.

They’ve slowly set up camp away from the cave, as night air gets chilly and the days grow shorter. Taissa is shockingly helpful in teaching them to make sturdy shelters out of logs and sticks; apparently she had an A in shop. The book Van saved from the cabin about ancient architecture helps, but Tai chalks it up to “butch instincts” and then Van cracks stupid jokes about what else her hands can do.

Jackie’s a little miffed. By now she’s pretty sure of the team she wants to play for, and she can’t figure out how to make a stick house that won’t fall apart in the wind. So much for handy lesbians.

They’re being good enough that Jackie doesn’t bitch about it, even though Taissa decided to leave them for reasons nobody will explain. Did her and Shauna fight? They’re tense around each other lately, polite but not close like they used to be. Jackie isn’t all that upset about it, but she knows that it hurts Shauna every time Van and Taissa leave for the night.

Arguments aside, their camp is in pretty good shape by the time fall begins for real. They’ve cleared out a space big enough for five hut–teepee–fort things, which turn out to be surprisingly warm once they fill in the wooden frames with mud and moss and leaves. Shauna, Jackie, and Noah have one all to themselves, and the addition of a few dried flowers and fox fur blankets makes the place sort of homey. They make a bed out of pine needles and animal pelts, and it’s shockingly comfortable even though Jackie never liked sleeping near the dirt. She can even mostly forget about the creepy deer skull Lottie insisted on mounting over the doorway.

So it’s not exactly the cushy apartment she used to imagine. So Jackie sometimes wakes up  with bugs in her hair. So they have to clap hands over each others’ giggling mouths when they leave Noah with someone else for the night to make love in private. This place is theirs, and everyone knows it.

Plus, the huts are better than the caves. Jackie so did not want bats in her hair.

Noah seems to be breathing better, too, although he doesn’t do well in the cold. He’s healthy enough, though, only a little behind on the incredible little developments Akilah remembers from her nephew. He can roll over, hold the cloth toys they made for him, and sit up without support. He’s not quite crawling yet, or teething, but Akilah says that’s probably fine. He recognizes them all now, she’s pretty sure, and his gummy smile when he sees Jackie is the brightest part of her life.

He’s also, miraculously, talking.

The first night in their new home is a full moon, so Shauna is out running with the others. Jackie is lying awake, listening for the snap of sticks under her feet coming back to bed, when she hears Noah fussing in the little crib Tai made for him.

She sighs, rubbing her eyes before hauling herself up to hold him. He ate just before Shauna left and had a diaper change a little bit ago, so she figures it’s just one of those nights. According to Misty he’s supposed to be able to fuss himself back to sleep, but Jackie hates hearing him cry.

Her bones ache as she pulls him up, tense from the fear of sleeping outside when the air is this chilly. Melissa is out by the fire, keeping watch, but Jackie never feels really safe without Shauna nearby. Exhausted as she is, it’s a relief to have Noah close. He seems to agree, his whining quieting down into little huffs.

He stares up at her with those big brown eyes, and Jackie tries to forget about the cold. She’s always better when she can anchor herself in him. His dark hair is falling out, leaving him with a massive bald spot at the back of his head that Mari finds hysterical. But still, he’s all Shauna. Even after all these months, it takes Jackie’s breath away.

“Hi, baby bee,” she murmurs, “You were freezing, huh? I’m sorry, I’ve got you. You’re okay. Your Mama’s gonna be home soon, okay? Ma-ma, yeah? Yeah, we’re okay.”

He babbles back at her, ayayaya, what Mari’s been trying to convince them all is an attempt at Akilah’s name. His little hand reaches up, and she turns her head to kiss his fingers before he can snag some of her hair.

“Mama,” he says.

Just like that, so clear in his little voice that she thinks she must’ve imagined it, and still staring right at her. She gapes down at him, her vision suddenly blurry, immediately forgetting about everything but the baby boy in her arms.

“Mama?” She whispers, and lifts him up so that they’re face to face, “Did you say Mama?”

Noah grins, toothless and tiny, and rests his spit-covered little hands on her nose.

“Mamama,” he says.

Tears spring to her eyes, warm, and she gasps a wondering laugh. He just said his first words. He just spoke. To Jackie.

“Baby,” she whispers, kissing his hands, his forehead, his unbelievably soft cheeks, “My baby.”

And then she freezes. She pulls away slowly, carefully, because she can’t bear to hurt his feelings. But she promised herself that she wouldn’t be selfish anymore. How could she take this from Shauna?

“Your Mama’s coming home, baby,” she says, “I’m not– I’m Jackie. Can you say Jack-ie?”

He giggles, tugging hard on a strand of her hair that she wasn’t careful enough to protect. She hisses in pain, and then sets to work on detangling herself.

She knows that Shauna said Noah could be both of theirs. Jackie knows that she loves him, that she would do anything for him. He’s her son – she’s bled for him, eaten for him, gotten out of bed in the morning for him. It’s just, can she really call herself his mother?

“Amamama,” he says.

That screaming sound roars outside, and the wilderness babbles with him.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Jackie wakes up the next morning still sitting up, with Noah in her arms and Shauna passed out next to her. She yawns, kisses the top of Noah’s head, and then sets him back down in the crib. He starts fussing again, so she sings while she dresses for the day. She keeps her voice low, hoping to let Shauna sleep a little while longer, while she rifles around their pile of cloth for the rabbit fur leg warmers that Akilah made for her.

“Close your eyes, give me your hand, darling…”

When she turns around to pick him up, Shauna’s awake and sitting up.

“Hey,” Jackie smiles, “You don’t have to be up yet.”

Shauna yawns but shakes her head, reaching towards the crib.

“He must be hungry. Was last night okay?”

Last night was a miracle – but Jackie doesn’t want Shauna to know that she missed it. She tugs on the leg warmers, avoiding eye contact so that Shauna can’t tell she’s lying.

“Fine,” she shrugs.

Luckily, Shauna’s too distracted by the baby to realize anything’s different. Noah babbles contentedly at her while she lifts him up to sniff at his makeshift cloth diaper. Jackie bites the inside of her lip, hoping.

And then he says it, right as Shauna lowers her arms to hold him against her hip: “Mama.”

Shauna freezes, her head jerking up to lock eyes with Jackie, and Jackie claps a hand over her mouth.

“Did he just…” Shauna starts, and then Noah cuts her off.

“Mama,” he says again.

Jackie shrieks with joy – not loud enough to scare him, of course – and Shauna laughs, amazed, pressing her forehead to his.

“Holy shit,” she says, “That’s right. That’s right, kid, you’re a genius. I’m your Mama.”

A weight falls off of Jackie’s shoulders, and she knows that she’ll never tell Shauna what happened last night. These will always be Noah’s first words, to everyone but her, and she doesn’t mind at all.

And then Noah turns in Shauna’s arms, reaching to Jackie, and says, “Amama.”

Now it’s Jackie’s turn to freeze, to stare at Shauna with wide eyes. Will she be hurt? Angry? Will she finally realize that she doesn’t want to share Noah with Jackie, the best friend who she resented for years, the girl who never even realized how selfish and shallow Shauna thought she was?

But no, Shauna’s expression doesn’t change. She bounces her son in her arms, grinning right at Jackie.

“Yeah, that’s your Mommy. You know you’re not supposed to talk for like a month still, right? You’re pretty smart, kiddo.”

A stupidly enormous smile tugs at Jackie’s cheeks, and she isn’t anywhere close to strong enough to fight it. Noah’s mommy, huh?

Yeah, she could be alright with that.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Noah speaks more and more after that, learning new words with a speed that blows them all away. He’s like a championship-level talker in just a few weeks, and Jackie walks around so proud her breath is tight. Everyone entertains themselves with teaching him, walking him around camp and repeating their names or common phrases over and over until he gets it.

By the time the leaves are changing color, he has an expansive vocabulary. Mama is for Shauna and Jackie; Yes and No and More are mostly for eating; Akilah is Kiki and her animals, which he adores, are all Ducky; Nat is labeled Nana , a source of endless hilarity; Lala is Lottie; Ow is for getting hurt and Owie is for Misty; Tee is tree and Tai; Wawa is water; and on and on.

They’re trying to get him to eat solid foods, although Jackie is paralyzed by the threat of allergies. For now that just means mashed berries, carefully taste-tested and with every last seed plucked out, and the smallest possible portions of ground meat. Mostly he’s still on the breast milk diet. Shauna isn’t looking forward to the teething stage.

On a sunny day, when the sky is a deep blue and it’s warm enough that Jackie doesn’t need to layer, Melissa volunteers to trade her root-gathering shift for babysitting Noah. Jackie would definitely rather be on baby duty, but Mari accused her of hogging him this morning and she knows it’s important to be a team player. Especially now that summer is ending. She takes one of Van’s baskets and heads out into the woods without complaint.

The trees start screaming at her before the basket is full. Shauna told them all to work through it, and Lottie told them not to be afraid, but Jackie lets herself finish early. The screaming always confuses Noah, and she wants to hold him through it.

The screaming has stopped by the time she gets back, but she can't bring herself to regret leaving the woods. Melissa is making Noah shriek with laughter by bouncing him on her lap. It’s a little rough for Jackie’s taste – but Shauna fully throws him into the air to make him giggle, so she lets it be for now.

“I keep trying to teach him my name,” Melissa says while Jackie sorts through the roots, “Mel’s gotta be easier than Mari, right? But he just keeps saying Moo.”

“That’s new,” Jackie laughs.

Melissa beams at her, clearly grateful for the attention. Guilt twinges in Jackie’s chest; she’s always so focused on Shauna and Noah, and after them Nat, that she sort of neglects the others. Obviously, they’re together all the time as a group; and she doesn’t matter too much to them on her own anyway. But Shauna’s their Queen. As her girl, Jackie’s like…the first lady, or something. They come to her with requests for Shauna sometimes, and she does what she can, but she should probably be more present in the downtime.

Hanging out with Melissa one-on-one is sort of nice. Jackie feels some sort of deja vu, and it takes her a moment to place but she gets it eventually: Melissa had asked her for pointers as a freshman. She was even more awkward back then, a year behind Jackie and too small for the blue cap backwards on her head, but she’d wanted to try out for the freshman team.

“I’m not very good,” she said, “But my best friend wants to join, so…”

Jackie had cooed internally, picturing Melissa as a little version of Shauna who wasn’t naturally talented at soccer, and sacrificed a week’s worth of after-school dates with Jeff to help the girl get in shape. She wasn’t actually that bad – it had been a confidence issue. Now that Jackie thinks about it, that had probably been part of why Coach Martinez picked her to be captain.

“I can change his diaper, if you want,” Melissa offers now.

“Thanks,” Jackie says, “Seriously. But it’s fine, I don’t want to upset the chore chart.”

Melissa smirks and opens her mouth to say something else, then gasps as her eyes flit over Jackie’s shoulder.

Jackie’s up in a second, ready to shield Noah from whatever is coming for them, but it’s only Nat coming back from hunting. Jackie relaxes, confused about Melissa’s reaction until she realizes what Nat’s dragging behind her.

It’s an enormous moose, the biggest animal they’ve had since the bear, so heavy that Natalie’s panting and red-faced. Shauna’s going to be thrilled. Melissa whoops, Jackie cheers, and Akilah comes out from the animal pen to join the celebration. Almost everybody else is out, checking traps or gathering water or foraging or choking themselves out in poisoned caves, but they help Natalie drag the moose over to where Shauna will butcher it later.

“Nice work,” Jackie says.

She’s awarded with one of Nat’s rare real smiles. She hardly ever sees them these days, and warm pride glows in her chest.

“Moo,” Noah proclaims joyfully from her arms.

Melissa straightens up, suddenly alert.

“Woah,” she says, “Does he mean moose?"

“Of course he does,” an airy voice says from behind them.

Jackie jumps again, whirling around and trying to hunch over Noah, but it’s just Lottie. She’s back from the caves, Mari next to her. Akilah breathes a sigh of relief.

“The Wilderness has provided,” Lottie says, “To help us celebrate our new home.”

Mari grins, her hands in her pockets.

“Lottie wants to have a party.”

 

Notes:

Okay we will be getting back into horror and plot stuff soon, I promise. Winter is coming!! As always, hope you liked it :)

Chapter 32: if you can't beat 'em

Hannah shouldn’t have to feel guilty for finding the guide hot.

It’s a ridiculous issue to be fixating on during this trip, the most important of her career – the one that will cement her name in batrachology textbooks for generations to come, the one that will someday prove to Alex that Hannah Sophia Finch is more than just the teen mother who couldn’t manage to keep her baby. She has just captured the first ever recording of the Arctic Banshee’s mating call. This is an incredible, once in a lifetime achievement, and Edwin is making her feel like the high school slut who couldn’t get the condom on right.

She isn’t even really attracted to the man! Alright, Kodiak is rugged and muscular and clearly capable of rough wilderness-survival activities. And it’s absurdly attractive when he crossbows that rabbit and prepares it for dinner. And her ovaries are screaming at her to jump the bones of this caveman-esque provider after years of exclusively associating with corduroy-clad professors.

But Edwin is the one she bunks down with at night, the one who admired her passion enough to change his field of study. Edwin is her fiancé, and Hannah is honestly insulted to find him insecure enough to doubt her fidelity.

Not to mention the paranoia. Obviously, trekking for days into the Canadian wilderness is understandably stressful for Edwin; he’s always been much more comfortable with air-conditioned academia than actual field work. And Hannah does feel guilty for breaking the emergency satellite phone, if only because the university will have to fit the bill. But Kodiak clearly has a handle on their situation, and Edwin’s mistrust is bound to cause tension. Hannah isn’t eager to spend the hike back listening to them bicker – or worse, in awkward silence.

So excuse her for being friendly, for trying to acquaint herself with the man they’ll be spending the next week with. Excuse her for having working eyes and a functioning sex drive; it’s not as if she’s going to act on it.

When Edwin runs off into the night at the smell of cooking meat, hoping to find – what, campers? this far from civilization? – Hannah follows him in a heartbeat, mostly just to prove her loyalty.

And then everything goes to shit.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Hannah wants to turn back when she hears the shrieking, when eerily human calls howl along to the Arctic Banshees’ song. She calls for Edwin to stop when she sees the lights up ahead, flickering unevenly through the dark silhouettes of the trees towering above. But when they come upon the camp itself, the girls jumping around the blazing bonfire like witches from a medieval nightmare, the teepee-like stick huts surrounding them in a strange fever dream of ancient history, the wooden table laden with a feast of charred meat and unidentifiable plants and the whole head of a moose, all Hannah can do is freeze.

This is– this is wrong. None of this should be here. Who are these people?

She forces herself to follow after Edwin, creeping quietly out of some instinctual anxiety. They shouldn’t be here, she knows, but she can’t leave him. And more than that…

Hannah has always been curious. It’s what kept her in school, even with everything at home, even after the baby. It’s what drove her to dedicate her life to a species that almost nobody else in the world gives a shit about. It’s what keeps her hungry, keeps her pushing, keeps her making discoveries nobody else has managed to find. This is unnerving, inexplicable – in other words, completely fascinating.

Her fingers fumble at her bag until she finds the tape recorder, presses ON.

“Testing,” she whispers, as if this is part of her research, “Testing, one, two, three.”

A tall girl with dark hair tumbling down her back stops as if she can hear Hannah’s voice, letting the others spin around her. Her mouth drops open as she spots them through the dark, a patchwork cloak of fur draped over her body. Kodiak swears under his breath.

“Oh my God,” Hannah says, “What is this?”

A dream, she realizes a moment later, because of course it is. None of this could possibly be real, unless they’ve stumbled onto some sort of bizarre movie set.

Edwin moves to enter the camp, Hannah and Kodiak just a step behind, and the girl watching them balls her hands into fists.

“NO,” she screams, and the other girls finally stop dancing.

Hannah cringes, her breath catching in her throat as the group before them turns to gape in silence. They all seem stunned, as shocked to find other people here as Hannah was to stumble upon their camp. They’re all inexplicably young, maybe in their late teens, and unnervingly in sync even as they stand still. For a moment there’s nothing but the crackle of firewood. And then…

“We’re going home,” a redhead gasps.

 A girl with frizzy curls and a bundle cradled in her arms shakes her head. Edwin cocks his to the side, the way he always does when he’s puzzling out the answer to a problem, and Hannah knows that understanding must be dawning over his face.

“Wait,” he says, “This is, uh…You all are, um…Oh, my God.”

And then one of them axes him in the back of the head.

The girls scream; Kodiak swears; Hannah just stands there, blinking, because this can’t be real. Edwin’s hands flying up, yanking out the axe, the gurgling sound that he makes as he flops down onto the ground, the dark sludge slopping out of his skull. She can see – oh, God, that’s his brain, jiggling, oh, God, this can’t be real, this can’t be happening, what is happening?

The girls are talking, are saying something, but it’s lost in the buzzing that fills Hannah’s head. This is real, isn’t it? Her legs are shaking, so this must be real. Which means – Edwin. Edwin is hurt. He needs help, down on the ground. He needs- stitches, or something, he needs Hannah. She falls forwards, about to sink to her knees, about to help him, but somebody grabs her arm.

It’s the guide. Kodiak. His eyes are bright in the dark, and for a moment she remembers the fantasy she had when she first met him, where he saves her from a charging moose and then she falls into his arms, and he comforts her while she cries into his sturdy chest. That might be nice, to cry. To be held.

But instead he says, “Run,” and pushes her forward, and then her knees unlock and her head is pounding and she’s racing, racing away towards the trees.

The girls clamor behind her, their footsteps hitting the ground, and she realizes with horror that they’re following her. They’re hunting her down. She wants to sprint faster, to get away somewhere she can close her eyes so that when she wakes up this is all just a bad dream, but Kodiak jerks to a stop.

He turns on the girls streaming out of the camp to follow them, squares his shoulders and lifts the crossbow. The closest girl to them, with large brown eyes and bared teeth, charges forwards – but his shot misses her, flying over her shoulder to hit a girl in the distance.

The girl drops to the ground, her hand flying to her shoulder as she cries out, and the leader of the pack skids to a stop.

“Shauna,” the wounded girl cries from the ground, drawing the attention of the others.

Kodiak fires again, and Hannah screams along with the teenagers as she sees his arrow sink deep into the chest of a girl wearing a backwards cap. It’s such a normal item of clothing, so at odds with the pelts and furs that they’re all wearing, that bile scorches up Hannah’s throat.

But Kodiak is off again, tearing through the trees in the dark, and Hannah stumbles after him. Everything falls away as she runs, everything but the thunder of her heartbeat and the bird calls echoing from behind her – the bird calls peeling out of human throats, the honest-to-God growls slicing through the dark. It’s insane. This is insane, this is insane, this is unreal, this is–

“Camp,” she gasps, jerking Kodiak to a stop, “We should head to camp, right?”

Back to their tent, their lanterns, their frogs in jars. Back to reality, light, shelter, please, can’t they just go back?

He turns back to her with his teeth bared, and she shrinks away. Is this part of the nightmare? Is he going to attack her, to shove her down onto the dirt, to shoot an arrow through her throat? Hannah tastes salt and realizes that she’s crying, her breath hitching like a little kid woken up from a nightmare.

God, what she wouldn’t give to wake up.

Hannah stumbles along behind him, her wrist throbbing under his vice-like grip, her head shaking uselessly.

“We’ve got to get help! We’ve got to use the sat phone, we’ve got to call–”

His voice cuts through hers, unrelenting: “The broken sat phone?”

“Maybe I can fix it,” she pleads.

Her voice is too shrill, too desperate. Every academic advisor she’s ever had told her it would be the death of her career, this kind of emotion, that it would undermine any reasonable scientific conclusions she ever made.

But this isn’t right, running through the forest towards nothing. This is rational – she’s being rational – surely he’ll understand.

“I mean, we can’t just keep going randomly,” she continues, trying to calm herself, “We’ll get lost! We’ve got to get our supplies–”

A screech sounds from somewhere behind them, closer now, and Kodiak surveys the trees with his crossbow raised. His face is set, shining with sweat, disgusted with Hannah. She can’t believe she ever found him attractive. She can’t believe…

“No supplies are gonna save you,” he spits, “You’re gonna have to survive on instincts – and you wanting to go back to camp makes me think you don’t have any. Stick with me, or you’re on your own.”

He takes off into the dark just as torchlights begin to bob through the trees behind them. The trees threaten to swallow Hannah whole, and her gut jerks after him wretchedly. She doesn’t want to be alone; but she’s stopped now, at least long enough to think, and she can’t go back to dashing mindlessly through the trees.

Time is running out; the girl-snarling whoops nearby. Hannah makes her choice; she whips herself forwards, not towards Kodiak, but to camp.

She just has to get the sat phone. She can fix it, get help, if she’s just a little faster…

They’ll follow Kodiak, she thinks, straight forwards the way they were both running before. But instead the girls stay right on her tail, their screeching unceasing, their lights flickering with mocking warmth. She tries to stay low, to creep between the shadows, but soon enough the trees thin out and there’s a wide clearing before her.

Her feet stall at its edge, some ancient instinct gripping her heart: no cover, nowhere to hide, not safe, not smart. Wind sways the branches above and around her, and suddenly the trees feel like shelter – until one of the freaks following her yips right behind.

Hannah's breath breaks, and she throws herself into the tall, dry grass. It’s barely high enough to brush her hips, but she plunges ahead. Time stretches along with the plants snapping beneath her legs, catching at her pants, threatening to send her sprawling. The trees yawn ahead, beckoning, until she’s finally back in their waiting arms.

Without caution, though, it isn’t long before her head snaps back – her hair is caught in a branch, anchoring her in place. Her fingers fumble in an attempt to untangle it, but the howling is nearby; there’s no time to be gentle. Hannah yanks once, twice, and ignores the pain to rush onwards. She’s almost there. She’s so close.

But the screeching is ahead of her now, and still behind, and there’s nowhere to run. She spins in a useless circle, desperate, please, God, there must be somewhere–

There. A log, big enough to cover her body, fallen just beside a ditch deep enough to lay within. It’s too exposed, too obvious – but Hannah doesn’t have the option of caring. Her knees buckle as she sinks down beneath it, trying to tuck her body away where those wild girls won’t be able to see. Roots and stones dig into her body, but in her panic they’re an almost welcoming pressure.

A moment later, they’ve come: not screaming, but bearing a light that burns her eyes. Hannah clamps a sweaty hand over her mouth as the footsteps thump by, right above her. She tries to even out her panting, to hold her breath, but they pause regardless.

For a moment, there’s nothing but her heartbeat and the flash of fire behind Hannah’s screwed-shut eyelids. There can’t be more than two of them here, but it only took one to… Oh, God, Edwin. Oh, God, she doesn’t want to die. Please, don’t let her die.

After an eternity, the girls pass on. Hannah shakes, trying her hardest to keep silent, just in case. It could be a trap, or– or there could be more of them coming. She doesn’t know, she doesn’t know anything, what is happening?

Finally, the roaring in her ears quiets enough to really consider it: dying. Here. If this is it, she doesn’t want to go without giving Alex the message she always dreamed of: the story of how she loves her, and how she never stopped thinking about her, and how she hadn’t wanted to give her up. How it hadn’t been that simple.

Slowly, carefully, Hannah pulls the tape recorder up to her chest. She whispers around the lump in her throat, the sobs tearing out of her chest, trying to be brave, trying to believe that it isn’t entirely useless.

“My…My sweet baby, Alex. I don’t know if you’ll get this, but– But in case you do, somehow, I just need you to know…”

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Hannah can’t stay here.

It feels almost safe, in the dark, in the dirt under the log. But that’s just a prey instinct, an animalistic desire to be hidden in the face of danger. If she really wants to get out of this, Hannah has to move. She has to get back to camp.

So she forces herself up, trying to keep her crying quiet, and covers the recorder under a makeshift cairn of rocks. She tries to make it look natural, in case– in case those girls come back while she’s gone. It’s her only chance to tell Alex. Her last chance.

Her knees are shaky, but they’re enough to bear her weight. The trees look empty of danger: no torchlights approaching, no insane yelping close by. She’s just starting off when new screaming fills the forest.

It’s a deeper voice than the others: male, familiar even in its bellowing. Kodiak. Oh, Go, they got Kodiak.

Whimpers hitch out of her throat, too loud. Her courage vanishes along with Kodi’s calling, and she knows they’re going to find her but she can’t move. Her limbs shake violently, uselessly, keeping her trapped in a helpless huddle.

Eventually she gulps in a breath, screws her eyes shut for just a heartbeat, and turns to peer out of a crack in the log – to double check that she’s alone.

She isn’t.

There’s a pale hand in the dirt before her, tracing the outline of something. A footprint. Hannah’s footprint, Hannah’s idiotically uncovered tracks in the mud. The hand pulls up out of sight, and Hannah knows: this girl, who somehow managed to creep silently next to her, is about to discover her hiding spot.

Blank panic drowns out all thought for a beat, but Hannah shakes her head against it. She has to focus now, to choose: hide, run, or stand? None of those options seem viable, but she has to choose one, now.

She’s completely vulnerable, lying in the muck like this; she’ll have a better chance if she can face the girl on her own terms. Hopefully she’ll be able to explain, to escape violence. The group screamed when Edwin was– Before. They screamed before, as if they weren’t all anticipating the violence. Maybe this one will take her back to their camp rather than kill her on the spot, and maybe some of them will want her safe.

Or maybe she’ll just be able to die without cowering. Either way, it’s better than waiting.

She crawls out from under the log, biting back sobs, and rises on trembling legs. The girl hunting her down whirls around to face her, clad in a leather jacket, her face gaunt and dirt-dusted. Hannah’s hands fly up, her courage already failing her.

“Please,” she says, “Don’t hurt me.”

The girl surges forward, an arm out, and Hannah flinches back. There’s a rifle in this stranger’s left hand, tucked against her shoulder like it belongs there.

“It’s okay,” the girl says, her eyes wild, “It’s gonna be okay. What happened, back there, was– We didn’t want that. I’m so sorry, I promise we didn’t want that. We’re not gonna hurt you.”

Hannah knows she shouldn’t be comforted; the girl hasn’t dropped the rifle, and they’re alone. But this teenager, with her red-rimmed eyes and shaking fingers, is significantly less terrifying than the bacchanalian nymphs tearing through the forest. The bottom half of her dark, unkempt hair is bleached blond: a sign of civilization so absurdly reassuring Hannah’s vision blurs with tears.

“Are there any more of you?”

Hannah shakes her head.

“Who,” the girl starts, “Who are you?”

A light flashes behind her, and then two more girls are emerging from the darkness: one with wild red hair, the other lean and Black and holding a lantern. They’re as disheveled as the first girl, their clothes tattered and faded but far more normal than the strange animal-hide cloaks Hannah first saw them in. They’re still sharp, though, rough and raw even in their jeans and converse. It’s something in their eyes – uncut, untamed, uncultivated in a way Hannah can’t explain even to herself.

“Holy shit,” the redhead says as Hannah blinks against the glare, “Holy shit.”

The taller girl stays on her heels as she races to Hannah, stopping just behind hair-dye. They gape at her in unison, shooting loaded glances at each other as they lower their weapons.

Hannah isn’t sure what to think, now that they’re close and speaking and not horrific forest monsters. Despite looking like they’ve just stepped out of Waterworld, these girls are obviously little more than kids: desperate, terrified, young enough to be in her Intro to Herpetology class.

“Do you have any weapons?” The girl with the lantern frowns.

Hannah shakes her head jerkily, feeling it catch against the stiffness of her neck.

“No, no, that was just the guide. We’re here on a research expedition. I’m studying the, um– frogs. I’m studying frogs.”

The redhead nods as if she has any idea what Hannah is talking about, as if any of this makes sense. Her friend’s face stays furrowed, surveying Hannah cautiously.

“We should get her back to Shauna,” she tells hair-dye, “Figure out what to do next.”

Hair-dye and the redhead both give her a look Hannah can’t decipher: questioning and agreement and about a dozen other meanings coded into one expression. Still, hair-dye shoulders her rifle and turns to Hannah

“Alright, look. I’m sorry about– Before. But you’re safe with us. I promise, okay? So let’s head back, and let’s see how we can all get out of here.”

Hannah could still run, even if just to get it over with. The woods have been quiet since Kodiak’s screaming; these girls could very well be luring her in to kill her later. Trusting any one of them is beyond stupid. She has no guarantee that this feral girl will protect her.

But Hannah doesn’t want to die.

She agrees to walk with them, and the redhead smiles in relieved disbelief. She looks, even with a makeshift spear gripped tightly in her fist, all of eighteen.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Hannah learns the names of her captors during the walk back.

Natalie is the one who first found her – the one with the gun. Her empty eyes remind Hannah of the pictures she’s seen of shell shocked soldiers: haggard, exhausted, not horrified but carrying the weight of past horror. The other two girls – Van, the redhead, and Taissa, the lantern-bearer – are also hardened, but they don’t seem quite as spent as Natalie. Van asks eager questions about the world they’ve clearly been missing from for a long time. She avoids serious topics, mostly badgering Hannah for information about television she doesn’t watch and movies she hasn’t seen. Taissa rolls her eyes, albeit fondly, and asks for the date and who the president is.

The president of the United States. Which means these girls have been out here for almost a year, at minimum, and presumably not by choice. Why? What happened to them?

Dawn is breaking by the time they reach the girls’ strange camp. Kodiak is very noticeably missing. Natalie takes care to guide Hannah around the dark stain on the leaves where Edwin fell. His body is gone; Hannah doesn’t ask where they’ve moved it. Hannah doesn’t ask anything, walking silently between these girls as they take her to the largest stick hut.

A girl with dark, curly hair sits outside of it, her knees tucked under her forehead. Taissa makes a beeline for her, and the sitting girl looks up to reveal tear-stained cheeks.

“Melissa,” her voice hitches, “She’s–”

One of the girls Kodiak shot, Hannah guesses, so weary she can’t muster up any emotion. Taissa’s face collapses as she puts an arm around the girl, letting her sob. Van presses a hand to her mouth, crying, and Natalie shakes her head.

“Jackie?” Natalie asks.

“She’s fine,” says another girl.

Hannah turns to find this one looking exactly as she imagined the others, as she was fleeing through the forest: tall, draped in furs, and covered in blood. Her eyes are vacant, a gruesome smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“Jesus Christ, Lottie,” Van says, sounding sick.

Hannah is sick. Bile burns the back of her throat as the world spins. That deep, crusting red soaking her dress, streaked in fingerprints across her face, her eyelids, her lips – it’s Edwin’s blood, Hannah knows it. This is the girl who killed Edwin, and she’s wearing his blood.

God, God, how is this happening? Why hasn’t she woken up?

Natalie exhales shakily, then steps forward into the hut’s doorway. Hannah, for lack of better options, follows after her.

The inside of the structure is as shockingly well-built as the outside; moss and leaves have been stuffed into the cracks in the wood, and a low fire burns in the center of the circular space. Two girls are on the floor, one shivering on a makeshift blanket-covered bed and the other gripping her hand, dabbing her forehead with a wet cloth. The last girl, whose round glasses and frizzy curls Hannah recognizes from their first encounter, is standing at the back wall with that strange bundle of fur still cradled in her arms.

“How is she?” Natalie asks.

“Not deaf yet,” the girl laying down rasps.

Her shirt is off, leaving the rags wrapping her shot-through shoulder and blood drying across her torso on full display. Sweat shines over her pale skin, but she doesn’t seem to be bleeding. Not for the first time, Hannah remembers the joke her stepmother made when she got her PhD: not the right kind of doctor.

“Shauna,” Natalie says, nodding towards Hannah.

The wounded girl’s friend lets go of her hand to stand and greet them.

“I’m so sorry,” she says to Hannah, full of seemingly earnest sorrow, “I swear, we didn’t mean to hurt your friend. Lottie– the one who did it, she’s…sick. It’s been hard out here. But you’re not in any danger.”

Natalie snorts, just barely, and Hannah’s head swims. The other girls are squeezing in behind her, hugging the walls as they listen.

“Are you alright?”

A long moment passes before Hannah realizes that the girl on the ground is addressing her; more time has eclipsed before she can muster together the brain cells to nod. The girl gives her a sad, understanding look. It strikes Hannah as uncannily kind.

The one who just spoke – Shauna – addresses Taissa with the air of someone in charge.

“Mari and Akilah aren’t back yet?”

Taissa shakes her head.

“And you didn’t see any others?”

Again, a shake of the head. Shauna presses her lips together, but lets it go in order to return her attention to Hannah. And there it is again, even with the quiet certainty in her voice: a frightening ferocity in this girls’ big brown eyes. Hannah shifts on her feet.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Like during the defense of her thesis, Hannah’s mouth is so dry it cracks her words as they come out.

“I’m–”

A new sound pierces the air, interrupting her; a high, miserable noise that makes Hannah’s fingers twitch. Invisible hooks catch at her heart as she glances around with her head down, trying to find the animal wailing – until she realizes that it’s coming from the bundle in the curly haired girl’s arms. Until she understands why it pricks at her eyes; that’s a baby crying. They have a baby out here.

“Shhhh,” the girl holding it says, bouncing the blankets up to reveal what must be a months-old infant.

Every girl in the hut goes stiff, their full attention given to the wailing baby. It’s adorable: tiny and squishy and practically bald, with perfect little pink fingernails. The girl holding it, who must be its mother, puts her pinky in its mouth as a sort of pacifier.

“Good boy,” she whispers, smiling down at the baby as he quiets.

The others relax marginally, but Hannah is practically vibrating with tension. Curiosity wars with her fear, especially now that she seems to be safe from immediate murder. She has to physically bite her tongue to keep from asking questions.

“Let me take him,” says an airy voice.

Hannah cringes towards Natalie as the girl covered in blood passes them, reaching.

Shauna snarls at her, stepping in front of the mother and child.

“Are you fucking–”

“Shauna,” the wounded girl gasps from the ground, “Don’t.”

Shauna’s glare doesn’t abate, and her hands stay in tight fists, but she silences herself. The crazy girl frowns, bringing a hand up to smear red across her cheek.

“You don’t understand,” she says, her voice unnervingly soft, “It doesn’t want them here.”

“Maybe,” one of the girls behind her – Van – sighs, “It doesn’t get a say anymore.”

The crazy one reels back a little, betrayal obvious across her face. She seems hurt, almost fragile under all that splattered red, but Hannah doesn’t sympathize. She can’t stop shaking. Why are they letting this girl so close?

“Back off,” Shauna growls, a final warning, and then turns back to Hannah.

She tries to make herself smaller, curling her shoulders forward like she did back in high school when her stomach started showing. It should be ridiculous, cowering before a teenager, but her body understands the threat even if her mind doesn’t. It’s this girl the way it’s in all of them; an animalistic wildness that Hannah can’t describe, but knows is real the same way she knew about her pregnancy well before peeing on the stick.

The bloodied girl is obviously unhinged. Despite that insane screeching Hannah was so afraid of in the dark, these others don’t seem as far gone into madness. But Hannah can’t shake the feeling that these kids – these hunters – aren’t as far above axing her in the back of the head as they’re claiming to be. They’re all feral, somehow, and it isn’t just because of the pelts draped around their shoulders.

And where does the baby fit in?

“Who are you?” Shauna demands again, lips pressed together, brow furrowed, “Why are you here?”

Hannah glances around for help, even though she knows it won’t come from anyone here. Even the girl on the ground, the one who asked if she was alright, is staring up at her with shuttered eyes.

“I’m– My name is Hannah,” she says, cringing at the squeak in her voice.

She hasn’t been this scared since she was seventeen. When she speaks, it sounds like pleading.

“I’m– We’re a research team, studying a species of frogs out here. Maybe you’ve heard their mating call–”

“Do you know where we are?”

That question comes from behind her – Natalie again, she realizes.

“No, no, the guide brought us here. The one who, um…”

“Shot at us,” Shauna scowls.

“I– I didn’t know he would do that. I don’t even really know him, I swear, we just hired him through the university–”

“Are they still looking for us?” The little mother steps forward, her glasses glinting in the firelight, “I mean, are the rescue efforts ongoing?”

All of them lean towards her at that, desperate for information that Hannah has no idea if she can give.

“I’m sorry, I don’t…Who are you?”

They seem stunned into a brief silence. Shauna’s eyebrows twitch up and the young mom blinks, incredulous.

“We’re the yellowjackets,” Van says, as if Hannah should’ve known, “We were going to nationals.”

“Nationals? I’m sorry, I…”

And then it hits her: a group of teenage girls, athletes on their way to a championship game, victims of a plane crash. The details are hazy, given that their story has been irrelevant for the past hundred news cycles, but Hannah remembers a dark-haired woman crying for her daughter on television. She remembers thinking of Alex, her sweet baby, and recoiling from the thought of seeing her daughter for the first time since birth on the news like those girls. She remembers changing the channel, listening to her students chatter about it after lecture, and then moving on completely.

“Wait,” she says, “I do know you. You’re those girls, aren’t you? From New Jersey?”

How absurd, that these wild creatures are the high school champions who were internationally mourned. Wasn’t one of them a homecoming queen? Weren’t they pretty, friendly, smart, driven? What could possibly drive them to becoming like this?

Survival, a strange voice in the back of her mind whispers, sounding like grass breaking under her feet, Survival.

“That’s right,” Taissa says, seeming oddly relieved, “Do you know if anyone’s still searching for us?”

“I– I don’t know,” Hannah admits, “They searched for months, but…”

The girls around her deflate, real anguish stealing across their drawn faces, and for a moment the hut is quiet.

“Fuck,” Van says, low, “We’ve been out here a long time.”

It’s the truth; if Hannah had all but forgotten them, the rest of the world surely has. The last she heard of search efforts was a discussion about the United States and Canada’s diplomatic relations, and even that hadn’t been very promising. The girls stare at each other, her, or the ground – but all of them understand what it means.

“No,” Shauna says, “I don’t buy it. I mean, the government, maybe, but there are still people out there who wouldn’t give up on us. Our friends, our families. Mr. Matthews chartered a private plane for a five-day trip, there’s no way he’s pulling funding for search efforts.”

They breathe her words in, shoving off defeat, and then turn back to Hannah.

“You can get us home, right?” Natalie asks, “If you got here, then you can get us back.”

God, God, she wishes she’d asked Kodiak more questions. Because the truth is…

“I don’t even know where I am right now,” she says, choking back tears.

“But the other one,” Taissa presses, “The guide. He would know the way, right?”

Relief crashes into Hannah like a tidal wave: if she believes that he’s an option, he must not be dead. The others perk up along with her, until Shauna shakes her head.

“He’s dead,” she says.

Hannah swallows a whimper, screwing her eyes shut as they go on.

“What, did you kill him?” Natalie asks.

Shauna pauses, but then says, “No. No, he was running from me, and he went right over the cliff. You know, where we used to dump the shit bucket? I tried to warn him, but…”

But he’s dead. His neck snapped, or his skull broke open just like Edwin’s, and he’s gone – along with Hannah’s chances of making it back home. Of ever publishing her findings, making a name for herself worthy of taking home at the holidays, seeing her daughter again.

“But we’ll make it back without him,” Shauna insists, and then rounds on Hannah, “You get some rest, okay? I’m sorry, I know this is all…a lot. You can take any hut, okay? We’ll look out for you. And then tomorrow you’ll tell us what you remember of getting out here. And we’ll start figuring this out.”

Hannah takes in her straight shoulders, her confident determination, the way everyone else in this hut – even the girl bleeding out on the ground – is lapping up her speech. She’s never seen this kind of leadership in someone so young.

“Are you, like, the captain? Of the team?”

Shauna’s eyes flick down to her wounded friend, even as her chin juts out proudly.

“Something like that.”

 

 

Chapter 33: in me, in me, it shows

The man – the body – still smells wrong.

Lottie has been working, working while the stars wheeled overhead until the sun burned them all away, working with the blood and the earth and the words, and still he smells wrong. Cloying, false, striking at her senses until she’s sick and dizzy. Deodorant, cheap and chemical, the lying scent of a dead world. An insult, a bastardization, they couldn’t see it but she knew when she sniffed it on the wind; she knew because It told her, before all the others, just like last fall, just like always.

All the others have returned, even Mari and Akilah, who Shauna was worried for, all alone in the deep dark woods. She never needed to be, though, because Lottie could always feel them, their heartbeats hammering, a frantic drum beat of blood for the roots to drink, loud enough for the ground to hum with it under Lottie’s hands. Lottie had sunk her fingers into the soil and tipped her head up to the sky, listening with her palms, all of them in a rushing racing web of togetherness, the hunt, the hunt, the hunt, and her own pulse leaping to join the others. The Wilderness loves them more but Lottie loves them better, her team, her friends, and she offered up this man’s death to tear them from Its teeth.

Now, though, they’re all at the camp and they’ll take the body away soon. Natalie must be almost done digging the hole, but Lottie can’t let him go into Its arms like this. Unnatural.

The rotting helps, the body sagging down to the earth like he knows, it knows, where he is supposed to be. He didn’t before – the man, like the smell, didn’t belong here at all until he was dead. Until he was a corpse among so many dead things, blooming.

It doesn’t love him, not like it loves Melissa, rising up to cradle her once she’s given them her last. But It can use him now, can plant ferns in his femur, can feed grubs with his eyes, and that is enough for one life.

Still, the smell. Lottie is cleaning it away, putting in the time the way her nanny once showed her: neutralizing the odor, restoring a fresh scent. It’s like laundry, cleansing their home from this stain, and Lottie giggles at the realization. Smears a little more blood behind the man’s ear, lifting up his glasses gently so that they don’t crack, because she knows that would make Misty worry. Behind the ears, where the lobe hides a spot at the very top of the neck, that’s where her Mother used to dot perfume. That’s where this man’s society-smell is hiding.

Lottie wants it gone, wants to cover it in mud and blood and decay, to stop the burning in her nose, the stinging at the back of her tongue. And she doesn’t want It to get upset.

The other one, the man with the weapon, he’s dead now, too, and that’s good. It knew him, Lottie saw, It had seen him before. But It didn’t love him, and he would not have loved them. They’re better off with him gone, crumpled at the bottom of the cliff.

“You’ll see now,” she whispers to the body, “You’ll see it, too.”

“Shut the fuck up, psycho.”

Lottie doesn’t need to look to see who hurled those words at her across the campfire; she knows it’s Mari. She cringes, hurt, because she knows that’s how they think of her now.  Just like all of the pale doctors, the pinched nurses, back in the before. Psycho. Because they don’t understand why she had to do it, why she had to free this man from his corpse, why she had to let the wilderness in to him. They are…afraid. Angry. With her. They can’t see, they can’t know, but that’s alright – they will, someday. Soon? she asks, and is answered by the breeze curling up the shell of her ear: soon, soon, soon.

Good. It’s still speaking to her, in its strange and wordless way. She’s been trying all summer, trying to drag prophecy out of that airless cave, trying to find glimpses of winter in the swaying simmer of hot air, and now she’s found it again, the way to keep them all safe. It came back to her when she saw the strangers advancing on their ceremony, the ones who didn’t belong, not in a voice but in a feeling, not in a feeling but in a knowing.

That’s how Lottie sees, not only in visions but in understanding the way that animals understand. With their bodies, with their bones. She saw the man and it exploded all within her, NO!, and she did what the others have been asking her to all along. She listened, and she protected them.

A voice like Mari’s whispers now, only in her head, not in reality: Did you? Protect us?

Lottie frowns again, bringing a warm wet finger to her lips, because It hasn’t shown her anything else and she doesn’t know. Did she? Has she ever protected them, really? Or has she only ever been too late?

A count, then, to figure it out: Rachel, Coach Martinez, the flight attendant, the pilots, dead. Because of the Mattews plane. Laura Lee, dead. Because Lottie couldn’t read the visions, the gifts from God, until Laura Lee was up there with Him, or It, or nothing but the fire. Javi, dead. Because Lottie couldn’t see clearly through the snow, couldn’t find him until he was tripping Tai. Coach Ben, dead. Because they wouldn’t take Lottie, when they used to listen to her, when she used to matter. Travis, dead. Because It was hungry, and It didn’t care how much she bled. And neither did they.

So, then, maybe Mari is right. Maybe she just needs to shut the fuck up.

But that’s not right, is it? Lottie had saved them, hadn’t she? She’d felt her fingertips going numb, snowflakes falling falling falling, tiny kisses stinging her skin, and she had known: Jackie, Jackie outside by the fireless pit, Jackie so desperate to stay in the quiet dark. It hadn’t wanted Lottie to wake up, but she did anyway, with the help of a ghost who is gone now. She took the knife to her skin and let the blood pour, she shook Shauna awake in the dead man’s attic, and she got their once–captain in out of the cold. She saved Jackie, saved her life that night, and then Jackie saved their baby, and their baby will save them all. Little Noah, sweet Noah, he’ll be the one to bring them all home and it will be because Lottie listened to It.

Noah, not this man. No matter what the others are whispering.

She had wanted him before, the soft baby smell of him, the warm weight against her chest, but Shauna hadn’t let her close. She’ll just have to wait, then, until the Queen’s flaring fury cools to a simmering anger, until the winter sets in and they all turn back to Lottie with those empty hungry hands. Then she’ll have Noah in her arms again, their baby, their boy, and she’ll sing to him as she teaches him how to see.

Something flashes before and around her, a suburban street in the summertime, a cracking driveway, a riderless tricycle, and then it’s all gone. Lottie smiles again, looking up to endless blue as she swirls patterns into the body’s skin.

“Thank you,” she whispers, letting her eyes slip closed, hoping she’ll be able to hold on to that one.

And then she’s back, back in herself, and Shauna is across the firepit talking about a burial, and Gen won’t listen to her. Lottie nods along as Gen hisses, “What if it was Jackie? Wouldn’t you want–” and cringes when Shauna slaps her, hard, across the face.

Lottie goes silent with the rest of them, watching as Shauna reels herself back in. Clenches her fists to keep from letting go again, because the stranger collecting foreign supplies with Tai and Van will return to camp soon and is already changing them.

“We are not fucking eating her,” Shauna says, “And that’s final.”

Shauna wants to pretend, even though It let them choose her, even though she’s Queen, because this new woman is with them. Because she’s too small to go between bodies, even if she does smell like sweat and dirt rather than sickly sweet perfume. Even if It’s letting her stay.

But it isn’t final, not really, because there’s a knife in Gen’s pocket. And that’s good, too.

Tai and Van and the new woman walk back into the camp. Tai wrinkles her nose at the body under Lottie’s hands, and a sharp sting of triumph jolts through her. Tai must smell it, too, the fading wrongness, must know it by the Sleeper under her skin. Don’t worry, Lottie would tell the Sleeper, I’m almost done.

They carry a large gray box, too smooth-sided, metal like the plane and another thing that doesn’t belong here. The woman’s woman’s eyes shutter closed when she sees Lottie preparing the body.

“Sorry,” Akilah says, kind Akilah, “We’re watching her, but she wanted to, um…”

The woman shakes her head, pale and trembling but still on her feet. Lottie wonders how much it would take to knock her over. One hand? Two? Six days, she said the journey would be. One week to reach the old world, if only she knew the way.

Misty was talking, before, about killing her. Lottie doesn’t think it’s necessary, doesn't think that's what It wants, as long as they don’t go back. Back.

They can’t, she reassures herself, It won’t let them even if they try.

“It’s alright,” the woman says, her voice as delicate as her face, “Just, uh, is the– the grave, is it…”

“It’s done,” Nat says, suddenly emerging from the trees.

She’s red-faced, her clothes covered in dirt, her hands cracking and filthy. Sunlight swims lovingly around her cheeks, her shoulders, the dark hair close to her scalp, and Lottie’s spine sings. Here is someone who belongs.

But Natalie doesn’t spare her a glance, not even to be disgusted. She walks up to the body as if Lottie isn’t even there, letting the others gasp around that awful box, and crouches down beside it before looking up at Lottie through her dark eyelashes.

“We have to bury him,” she says, her voice low and worn-out.

Did Lottie save Natalie? Did Travis? She’s been nothing but exhausted since he died, drawn and slumped. Only Noah, their baby, their sun and stars, puts the light back into her eyes.

Lottie rocks back onto her heels, crouching to match Nat, and frowns. To match Nat.

“Okay,” she says, trying to be gentle, her voice a little rough from all the whispering.

She isn’t happy that he’s dead. She doesn’t like that he’s cold now, his blood drying, his eyes foggy. She’s just glad that this will protect them, will appease It, will be enough for now. Natalie might never understand, even if the others do, but that’s alright. Lottie doesn’t need them to like her. She just needs them to be okay, alive, together. Here with her, with It, where they belong.

“Lottie,” Natalie says carefully, “We can finally go home, after this. We can go home, do you understand? We can get you some help.”

Lottie’s heart aches for her, this kind girl with the rough hands. Natalie has as much to lose from leaving than any of them, or more, and Lottie doesn’t want to see her hurt. Not more than she already is.

“We are home,” she says, reaching out to grip the cuff of Nat’s jacket sleeve, trying to make her eyes clear, trying to show her.

But Natalie jerks away, her face closed as she shakes her head and stands. The sun shines behind her head, a halo, fire, casting her in shadow as Lottie cranes up to look at her. She turns away to the others before Lottie can say any more.

“Help me lift him,” Nat says to the girls milling around the center of camp.

The wind stirs as they lift the body away, and all Lottie can smell is decay.

 

 

Notes:

short lottie pov break - but we'll be back to the actual plot soon!! and also to jackie and shauna's narration :)

Chapter 34: gonna be the one that saves me

The food on the grocery store shelves keeps changing.

One moment, Jackie’s looking at a wall of brightly colored chip bags: classic brands, a variety of flavours. The next there are flies droning in her ears and blood dripping onto the floor, feet and hands and arms and legs packaged for her consumption. She stands there in the aisle, staring with her mouth open like an idiot, and wonders which image is the real one.

Everything else in the supermarket is perfectly normal; fluorescent lights that barely flicker, the wheels of the grocery cart squeaking over polished gray concrete, Noah humming in the baby seat. She tears her eyes away from a particularly juicy organ-looking thing to smile at him through her confusion, marveling at his chubby legs and easy breathing. His hair is lighter now, a brown closer to her own honey color than the shock of dark curls he was born with, but his eyes are still identical to Shauna’s. He looks healthier than…

Then what? He’s always been this healthy, carefully attended to by the best pediatricians Wiskayok has to offer. She and Shauna were worried about his asthma when he was first diagnosed, but with the inhaler it’s no problem. Noah was a perfect baby boy, and now he’s growing into a perfectly healthy kid.

Jackie shakes her confusion away and looks back down at her list. They’re hosting a team reunion today at Mrs. Shipman’s, all of them back in town for the summer after senior year. Shauna’s mom is nice to let them hold the event at her place – Jackie and Shauna’s little apartment in Providence was too far away, not to mention too small. Shauna’s cleaning and setting up right now, and Jackie took Noah out with her to the store so that he wouldn’t get in the way. She knows exactly where she is, strolling through the ShopRite, and the food on the shelves isn’t anything to blink at. She’s just tired.

The list, then, before she wastes hours in here. She has to buy everything in time for the barbeque. Soda, long island iced tea, Mountain Dew for Misty Quigley. Burgers, livers, hot dogs, hearts, buns. Watermelon, berries, cherries, pine needles, cambium bark. 

“Mommy,” Noah whines, distracting her, “I’m hungry.”

Jackie smiles at him through the pang striking her heart. It’s not like he’s starving, but she hates to deny him food when he wants it. Sometimes she’s grateful that he isn’t a girl; Shauna would ice her mom out for real if she ever told their kid to eat like a lady – which, in Jackie’s experience, just meant not eating at all.

She reaches down absentmindedly into an open bag of grapes to feed him one. It’s plump and moist and cool under her fingers, and she hands it over without reaching down. She doesn’t realize what she’s given Noah until he bites down, until it squelches between his teeth, dribbles red down his chin.

“It’s okay, Mommy,” he smiles sweetly as she gasps for air, “I don’t need any more.”

There are bits of green stuck in his teeth, flashing amidst the blood and bone. Jackie’s hand flies to her face, sinking straight through into her skull, and her mouth gapes open beneath the hole where her eye used to be.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

“Jackie,” Shauna is saying, her voice pulsing against the walls of Jackie’s brain, “Jackie, please.”

Jackie’s never been able to deny Shauna anything, not when her voice sounds like that, soft and scared and pleading. But oh, God, she’s so sick. Her head hurts – her bones hurt – her shoulder hurts so bad. Her limbs keep seizing and shaking, and her stomach is trying to force out the last bits of water left inside of it, and the ground spins fast under her body. She’s so sick, so sick, and the bandages cut tight into her skin, and all her insides are heavy.

Shauna’s still sitting next to her, with a rag and a cup of water and a bowl of broth. She’s taking care of her, just like she always does, and it makes Jackie want to curl up even smaller. Who’s taking care of Noah?

She fists her fingers in the blankets beneath her, trying to find somewhere cool, and even that’s painful. Shauna’s fingers press down on the back of her neck. Jackie moans, pathetic, and inches her face into the side of Shauna’s calf. It wouldn’t be so bad to die, if only she could stop feeling like this.

“Please,” Shauna begs again, “Come on, Jax, you just need to take a sip, it can’t be that fucking hard, come on.”

Jackie squeezes her eyes shut tighter and immediately regrets it, the pressure throbbing through her whole face. Her eyelashes are wet, but her mouth is so dry. Still, she doesn’t want to drink. She can’t keep puking, and she knows, she knows, she can’t stop knowing that if she has a sip of the water in Shauna’s hands she’ll be choking into the dirt floor for hours.

Exhaustion tugs at her, pulling her back down into the dreams, and Jackie welcomes it – even the nightmares are better than this. She doesn’t want to try and save herself from this. She just wants to go to sleep.

“Please don’t make me,” she whispers, the words scraping up her throat, and regrets that, too.

Shauna’s hand clamps down tighter under Jackie’s hair, and she whimpers at the nausea it sends pulsing through her.  

“Fuck you,” Shauna says, her anger blazing even behind Jackie’s closed eyes, “You have to. Come on, just open your mouth, okay? I’ll just drip it in, we’ll go slow. See, it’s okay, you’re okay…”

Beads of water roll off of her own fingernails, drip-drip-dripping down onto Jackie’s cracked lips. She opens her mouth like a baby bird, lets the cool of them float on her swollen tongue, and then forces herself to swallow. Her body shudders once, twice, but there’s no vomit yet. Shauna is talking again when she comes back to herself, but sleep is already wrapping itself around her skull.

“They’ll be back soon, alright? They’ll be back with the medicine, I promise, you’re gonna be fine. It’s just a little…

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Natalie’s already out on the fire escape by the time Jackie finishes the dishes.

Their unexpected guest is shaking up the routine – Jackie’s usually the one giving Noah a bath while Shauna cleans up after dinner. But this is the first time Nat’s ever visited their apartment, the first either of them have heard from her in months, and she’s more of Jackie’s friend than she ever was Shauna’s. So Shauna gets their son ready for bed, wrangling him through his nighttime routine despite his pleas to stay up with Auntie Nat, and Jackie joins Natalie outside.

“Eugh,” she says, nose wrinkling as she sticks her head out the window and smacks into a wall of cigarette smell.

Natalie smirks at her in the fading twilight, but fans her smoke out over the street. Jackie climbs outside, her limbs a little stiffer than they used to be, and shuts the window behind her.

“As if you didn’t steal all of Jeff’s Camels.”

Jackie sticks her tongue out at that very true point, settling down onto the creaky old iron. Car alarms wail somewhere in the distance, a little too loud for this corner of Providence. A tag in her shorts itches at her thigh; even after all this time, she still gets tripped up by wearing new clothes. They used to all share one closet, and every one of those disgustingly stained clothes were more comfortable than anything she can find at the Old Navy. Stealing Shauna’s clothes helps, but the problem is never really solved.

“They make me nauseous,” she tells Nat truthfully, “But, like, it’s fine out here.”

She doesn’t have to tell Natalie not to smoke around Noah. She wouldn’t even have to tell Mari.

Natalie stares down at the cigarette sagging between her long fingers, her eyes far away. Jackie hugs her knees and doesn’t interrupt. With this one person, she doesn’t need to talk. They sit in relative silence, Jackie’s elbow brushing Natalie’s unfamiliar leather jacket, and it isn’t uncomfortable at all.

“Remember that time you got sick,” Nat says, hoarse, “Out there?”

Agony stabs through Jackie’s shoulder, but she ignores it. Every day, she’s better at remembering to ignore things. Breath whooshes out of her lungs, and she checks behind her to make sure the window is closed.

They’re not really supposed to be talking about it. Out there. But Natalie’s never been able to let it go, and Jackie doesn’t want to let her go. Not on the first night after getting her back.

“Bleugh. Which time?”

Nat doesn’t need to answer. The headache strikes like lightning, leaving Jackie with her head in her hands, gagging from the pain.

“Yeah,” Natalie sighs, disinterested, “That one.”

Jackie hiccups a sob. Nat flicks ash off of her dark pants.

“Did you live?” She asks suddenly.

Her eyes are like the lake in winter, the lake they left behind years ago, soaring away from the silent steel of it, the darkness deep under the ice. Jackie trembles, shakes and can’t stop shaking, and suddenly she can’t remember how they got away. Did they walk? Did they fly? Did they…

Natalie crows closer, closer, until they’re face to face and their noses are almost touching. Something sizzles; only when the smell accompanies it does Jackie realize it’s the meat of her forehead. Natalie’s twisting the butt of her cigarette into Jackie’s skin, and the pain is already so bad that Jackie can’t even feel it.

Her mouth opens, creaking at the jaw, and she doesn’t know what her words will be until they’re tumbling through the fake sunset air.

“Do any of us?”

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Jackie is cold again.

Her stomach hurts where Shauna’s shoulder is jamming up into it. Her arms dangle down Shauna’s back, her legs knocking against her front. Snow stings her face and fingers, swirling white against black in the scant light of Shauna’s lantern. She’s awake now as she wasn’t then, the first time she was saved, and her heart stutters as Shauna’s knees buckle.

Shauna straightens herself up, though, and keeps trudging forward through the wind.

“Is this your dream,” Jackie mumbles through cracking lips, “Or mine?”

Shauna shifts her weight and then pants her way through the next few steps. She’s pregnant, like she was the first time around, but this time Jackie knows to worry about the baby. Why would Shauna come out into this night for her?

“Does it matter?” Shauna grunts.

Maybe not. Maybe it never had.

“Why do you come for me?” Jackie says then.

Her fingers, in the shadows of this dream, are already black at the ends. They’re so brittle she can barely feel the pain in them. If Shauna jostled her wrong, they’d probably snap clean off. Shauna exhales, and it’s snatched away into the snow.

“Why didn’t you come inside?”

Well, Jackie’s never wanted to answer that one. They both know the answer already, anyway. She's glad when the dream changes.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

When she wakes up, the pain is so much less she thinks it’s still a dream.

Her bandages are much too uncomfortable to be made up, though, and when she pushes herself up onto shaky elbows Shauna’s snoring next to her. Shauna never snores in Jackie’s sleep.

Ugh. Jackie’s mind is a little clearer, and her bones aren’t as achey, but she’s still exhaustingly weak. And her head starts spinning the moment it’s up above her shoulders, forcing her to swallow back some bile. Pain flares in her shoulder, and Jackie hisses against the memory of being shot through with an actual arrow. Ugh.

“You’re awake!”

It’s a voice Jackie doesn’t recognize – the first of that kind she’s heard in way more than a year. Jackie stares with wide eyes at the woman at the foot of her bed. Woman as in woman, fully grown, with hair that’s wild but completely without split ends and skin totally smooth under the dirt on her cheeks. Woman as in stranger. Fear flutters in Jackie’s stomach, and she has to screw her hands up in the blankets to keep from nudging Shauna awake.

This lady isn’t the one who shot her. This is…Jackie forgets her name, but without the fever swelling her brain she remembers that she’s just some scientist. She’s the one who led them to the secret stash of food and medicine, the stuff that must have just saved Jackie’s life, and not the guy who shot her in the first place.

“Sorry,” the woman whispers, “I can grab somebody else.”

There are lines around her eyes and in her forehead, thin like the ones Coach Ben used to have. Her shoulders are hunched, but she’s wearing a purple jacket that Jackie has never seen before. She’s old, and she’s new, and she might be their ticket out of here.

“It’s okay,” Jackie says, and is horrified to hear her voice raspier than it was when she was starving to death.

She isn’t starving to death, though, not now that Misty Quigley got her hands on some Tylenol. Jackie’s stopped puking two days later, and she can sit up completely on her own two days after that. It’s only when she’s able to stand that she lets herself hold Noah again, as terrified to hold him as she was when he was a newborn. Shauna never leaves her side for long; she changes her bandages and spoon-feeds her broth and helps her pee. When Jackie tries to push her away, let someone else handle the gross stuff, Shauna just rolls her eyes and presses closer.

“In sickness and in health, remember?”

Jackie loves her crooked smile more than anything else in the world. Her mom’s gonna be so pissed when they get back.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

The others fill her in on what the woman, Hannah, led them to.

“There’s been food here,” Taissa says, her eyes burning, “This whole time.”

The massive emergency kit was apparently full of protein bars and beef jerky and – holy shit!!! — hot chocolate. They sort it all out into a new hut next to Akilah’s animal pens, which they’ll use to store food through the winter, and sometimes whoever’s hanging out around camp will just go to stare at the new abundance of food.

The medicine is even more exciting, though, especially now that they have supplies to keep them from going hungry. Misty lines up rows of pill bottles and bandages in her hut; Tylenol and Advil, Neosporin and Vaseline, Hydrogen Peroxide, Band-Aids. She stares at them the way Lottie does the trees, half awe and half panic, and sometimes Jackie finds her taking the supplies down just to hold them.

Melissa is dead.

Shauna divides their supplies up carefully for the group who will be walking with Hannah, in what she’s “pretty sure” is the direction she walked from her team’s drop point. Nobody’s thrilled to split up, but the only thing dumber than staying in their camp and waiting for winter would be hiking off into the woods and leaving everything unguarded. Besides, none of them want to drag Noah out into the woods when they aren’t even sure which way to go.

There’s a lot of debating over who should stay or go, but Shauna ultimately decides to send Hannah, Natalie, Gen, Misty, and Mari on the journey. Taissa is so pissed off she must be hurt, and Akilah seems to want to go with them, but Shauna won’t bend on her decision at all. Everyone else, she says, is either needed at the camp or can’t make the journey. Besides, it’ll only be a few days before rescue comes.

Jackie doesn’t want to know why Misty is leaving with the explorers, rather than staying here to watch over her recovery. She doesn’t want to know why Shauna pulled Misty aside to give her hushed orders before announcing the groups, or why one of the hunting knives is missing from Shauna’s collection. She doesn’t want to think about what Hannah saw Lottie do, that first night, or what she might say about them back in the civilized world. So she shuts up and looks out for Noah, and leaves everything else on Shauna’s shoulders.

She’s gotten pretty good at that.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

Before the scouting group leaves, Jackie calls Nat into her hut.

She just finished a bowl of broth, and even managed to choke down the meat caught in the bottom of the wooden dish. Hopefully, it’ll give her the strength she needs to do this.

“What’s up, Cap?”

Nat sits down next to her, moving like her limbs are as heavy as Jackie’s were during the fever, and offers her pointed finger for Noah to gum on while they talk. Her eyes are red-rimmed, but more alert than Jackie has seen them since… More alert than Jackie has seen them in months. She’s always wanted to get them out of here, Jackie thinks, and now she might have the chance.

Out. God. What a concept.

“Will you fix my hair?”

She blurts it a little more desperately than she should have. Nat blinks at her for a moment before shrugging.

“Sure. Got any scissors?”

They end up making do with a knife.

Jackie sits with her hands fisted against Noah’s back. She wonders what this will look like, if they really do make it back to Wiskayok. Her and Natalie. She wonders if that place is even real.

“So why the makeover?”

Nat’s quiet, focused, her wetted hands working to straighten out Jackie’s frizzy knots. Jackie presses her back teeth together, hard, and tries to find a way to explain that won’t make her sound like an insane bitch.

“I was just thinking. I mean, if this is it, you know…”

Her voice trails off into uncertainty, her hands fisting on top of her knees. It’s stupid, obviously, to be shoving this in Nat’s face before she treks through the wilderness in autumn. Not to mention totally unnecessary – like, what is she going to do, whine to Natalie Scatorccio about a mother who loved her and wanted what was best for her? Jackie remembers seeing Nat’s mom exactly one time: at Mr. Scatorccio’s funeral, when she slurred her way through a crappy eulogy and everyone else pretended not to notice the red hand print burning under Nat’s concealer.

Jackie’s mom may have been a miserable tight ass, but she never hit her. Between the two of them, Jackie probably isn’t the one who should be trying to cry on Nat’s shoulder.

So she straightens out her shoulders and fixes her face. The expression is rusty from a year of misuse, and it sort of makes her muscles ache, but Jackie pushes through. If this insane plan actually works, if they actually make it back to her mother’s world, Jackie’s going to have to get used to it.

“I mean, if you pull this off, our faces are going to be on the cover of every magazine on the planet. I’m talking stardom, Nat, as in super.”

Nat scoffs, and Jackie knows her eyes are rolling even with her head facing the entrance to the hut. The rifle clinks against Nat’s belt as she leans forward to grab the knife, making Jackie’s babbling sound even dumber.

“Don’t our faces me,” she says, “I’m gonna rob Mr. Matthews and move to the Bahamas.”

Jackie giggles halfheartedly. Quiet falls between them again for a moment, broken only by the shhk of the knife against her hair and Noah’s steady breathing.

“Why didn’t you get Shauna for this?”

Honestly? Because Shauna isn’t the one about to trek through the trees where Van got her face ripped off. That doesn’t feel like the answer Nat’s looking for, though.

“You used to style your own hair, right? And it always looked,” Jackie’s nose wrinkles at the remembrance, “Well, not at all what I want mine to look like – but good for what you were going for!”

Fondness curls somewhere in Nat’s answering snort. Little hairs itch the base of Jackie’s neck, catching themselves under the hem of her shirt. It’s too cold for a dip in the lake – too cold for much of anything other than cuddling up with Shauna and Noah, lately – but Jackie will have to strip and rinse off with some boiled water to get it all off.

“Alright,” Nat finally says, “You’re done.”

They don’t have a mirror around, so Jackie uses her hands to feel Nat’s work blind. The last time Jackie’s hair was this short, leg warmers were the height of fashion.

In order to even it out, Nat had to cut it just past Jackie’s chin. Her bangs are gone for the first time in as long as she can remember, grown out to the same length as the rest of it, which her mother might hate as much as the wild unevenness of before. Jackie’s forehead must look enormous.

The new length is strange. It tickles her neck, lifts easily when she shakes her head, leaves her shoulders bare; it’s like the ghost of a memory. She feels…light. Colder, around her neck and shoulders, but definitely lighter. Shauna definitely seems to like it, when she comes in later.

The scouting party leaves at the break of dawn.

Notes:

Every time I say that I'm getting back to the plot, I write another dream chapter :( Sorry for the long wait!! So many things are going to happen in upcoming chapters, I actually promise, we're getting back to the drama (and death) of winter

Notes:

If you liked this, please please please leave a comment!!! They make me so happy! :)

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of All Your Secret Wishes