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One must never place a loaded rifle on the stage if it isn’t going to go off. It’s wrong to make promises you don’t mean to keep.
- Anton Chekhov, Letter to Aleksandr Semenovich Lazarev.
Never, ever, under any circumstances, say “I'll be right back.” Cause you won't be back!
- Randy Meeks, Scream.
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November 16th, 2014.
SAM, CORNER STORE.
19:05
“Okay, look, I’m saying it now so it’s official: it’s not allowed to be scary.”
Sam is pretty confident she’s mastered the exact tone she’s aiming for: Casual, yet firm. She leans back further against the glass of the corner store’s freezer, keeping her expression even.
Next to her, Beth frowns as she sorts through the drink options. “Where the hell is the Calypso Lemonade?” Then, eyes barely flickering in Sam’s direction: “You’re fighting a losing battle. You know that, right?”
Sam’s even expression breaks immediately. “It’s not like Josh only watches horror movies! I know he saw Twilight with the rest of us!”
Because, listen, it’s not that Sam doesn’t appreciate a good thriller. But there has to be a limit. There has to be.
“I mean.” Beth starts. “You’ve seen, like, two horror movies.”
“Five! And all with you guys.”
Beth makes a face. “Yeah, exactly. Even Hannah’s seen more.”
Which, Sam finds that comparison unfair, since she has long since understood that it is apparently impossible to grow up as part of the Washington family without watching a million horror movies-- Bob would consider it an insult if they didn’t watch his, and Josh is obsessed, so between the two of them, every event is an excuse to watch one. Don’t even get her started on the month of October.
It’s November right now. So, no excuses there.
“Hannah’s an enigma.” Sam says instead, because that’s true too.
Hannah is a sucker for a romance movie regardless of quality-- she’s been insisting Sam gives Mamma Mia another chance for ages-- but Hannah was also the one to watch all the Saw movies with Josh, even with her eyes half-covered, and she’s also the one always watching youtubers react to horror games.
Sam sighs meaningfully. “And, you know, I was perfectly content with my lack of horror knowledge. Happy, even!”
Beth pulls a strawberry lemonade from the back of the fridge, grinning in victory. “Then I think you picked the wrong family to get involved with.”
“Touché.”
There’s a clatter from another aisle, and Hannah comes back into view, holding up several bags of chips with a scandalized expression. “Guys. The chips here are 5 dollars. Each.”
They still end up buying 3 bags.
At last, they emerge with their bounty: the chips, a few stray chocolate bars, and Beth’s precious lemonade. Sam carries most of it, because she’s a kind, generous friend who does enjoy the silent showing off of lifting things, though that last detail would have to be tortured out of her.
Despite it barely being 6pm, the sun has already set in that depressing, familiar winter way. But snow falls overhead, coating the streets with white and making the night a little less dark. Sam takes a moment to exhale and enjoy the view.
Standing under the stoop of the corner store’s roof to hide from said snow, gloved hands in his pockets, a pink-faced Chris turns to regard them, raising his eyebrows with faux-judgement. “You guys done for real? Sure you don’t wanna make me wait, I dunno, another 10 minutes? Make sure you really examine every possible drink option?”
Sam grins easily, not even pretending to be ashamed. “Hey, mister, you’re the one that wanted to wait outside.”
“How is it my fault that those stores keep their insides at 100 degrees at all times? If I went inside, I’d be sweating, Sam. Sweating!”
The doors to the store whir open again as Beth emerges, with Hannah on her heels.
“You’re also the one who wanted to wear a million layers in November.” Beth points out, voice dry.
“It is cold out, Beth!”
“-5 isn’t cold.” Sam retorts, jostling the bags in her arms to slip on her own light pair of gloves. Then, shooting a mischievous glance in Chris’ direction, she adds: “Just wait until we hit the -30s!”
Chris shudders exaggeratedly as the four of them begin their walk to the bus that’ll bring them to the Washington home. “Oh god. Don’t remind me.”
Hannah laughs, blowing on her own hands to warm them up. “I think Chris is just gonna live inside at that point.”
“Oh yep.” Beth continues, wiggling her eyebrows. The tone is so immediately familiar that Sam is ready to catch Chris’ brief wince of embarrassed anticipation. “He’ll be warm inside, curled up by the fire with Ashleeey.”
“Ha ha.” Chris adjusts his glasses meaningfully, sounding very far from actual laughter.
Sam finds herself similarly unamused-- though she can’t really explain why. Maybe it’s just because she’s heard so many variations of the Chris-and-Ashley-are-in-love joke over the years-- mostly from Josh, but everyone in their friend group has said it at least once-- and she’s tired of that old joke. Or she just doesn’t like the way it makes Chris’ cheeks flush even deeper.
Her mom would probably have an alternate explanation-- delivered in the same tone as Beth-- but Sam is determinedly not thinking of that, just in case her own cheeks flush.
“Don’t worry, Chris,” Hannah smiles. “I think you two are cute.”
Beth scoffs. “You’d think two mountain lions sharing a room is cute.”
“Depends on how cute the mountain lions are!” Hannah declares cheerily, as Chris starts walking faster, hands still in his pockets, huffing out: “We can stop talking about this now. Hey, guys? I'm giving you full permission to abandon the bit.”
Sam speeds up a little to match Chris’ pace, moving ahead of the still joking Hannah and Beth.
“So, is Ash coming tonight?” She asks, throwing him a conversational rope.
“Nope.” He shoots her a quick, grateful look before he shakes his head. “Cancelled last minute. Book club with Matt, I think.”
She can’t help but smile. “Is that why Jess was talking about catching him reading Anna Todd’s masterpiece in class yesterday?”
From the way Jess had told the story, Matt had stuffed the book in his letterman immediately, but not quick enough to hide the cover. Jess had assured Sam-- and Em, who had been listening with her own smirk-- that she had teased him plenty already.
“Lucky.” Chris grins back. “Ash won’t let me anywhere near her copy.”
“Oh, and this has nothing to do with how you like to do the voices?”
From behind them, Beth exhales in amusement. “I still remember your rendition of 50 shades.”
“It was iconic stuff!” Chris says.
Sam does also remember the iconic rendition-- mostly because he and Josh had taken great joy in adding sound effects to every scene. She suspects it’s one of the many reasons they have not been invited to Ash and Matt’s exclusive book club.
“You should be an audio book reader!” From anyone else in their friend group, those words would be dripping with humor, but Hannah manages to make them sound sincere.
Chris puffs out his chest. “Woah, you think I could make money off these dulcet tones?”
The chorus of answers comes almost immediately.
“No.”
“Nuh uh.”
“Maybeeee?”
“That’s Hannah’s way of saying no.” Beth tells Chris, helpfully.
Over the years, Chris has really perfected his high-pitched scandalized voice. He switches into it with barely a blink. “Wow, okay, I see how it is! Only Josh and Ash are financing my new career choice!”
“Don’t forget Matt!” Sam says, even more helpfully.
Chris mock salutes. “Consider him remembered."
There’s a small moment of quiet as they cross the street, watching out for the incoming shine of headlights as the bus stop comes into view at the end of the block. Then, Beth turns back to Chris. “Hey, did Sam tell you about her no-horror-movie resolution?”
Sam scoffs dramatically, and Chris glances in her direction, smiling again. “Oh, wow, yeah, uh, good luck with that. ‘Ol Josh is on the warpath tonight. Think he’s in a Scream kind of mood.”
Knowing already that she’ll regret asking, but knowing she also has to ask anyway, Sam says:
“...Scream?”
***
“Sam. Samantha. Sammy. HOW can you not have heard of SCREAM?”
Josh's voice is comically incredulous. Both his arms are up in the air, waving frantically as he speaks. Sam's kind of impressed at how energetic he looks, even lounging on the couch in the Washington’s way-too-big basement.
“Does your good buddy Ghostface mean nothing to you?” Chris adds, leaning back on the couch beside him. He's trying to look scandalized, but he can't help his grin. Even in the warmth of the basement, he's still got a flannel over his shirt, and then another sweater over that. Sometimes, Sam suspects he's just got really low iron.
Hannah had vanished upstairs as soon as they'd arrived, and Beth is sorting out snacks in the kitchen, so it's up to Sam to defend her own honor. Exhaling, she adjusts her position in the loveseat next to the couch.
She starts counting on her fingers. “Josh, look. You’ve shown me Alien, Alien 2--”
“Aliens, Sam, but yeah.” Josh says.
Sam continues her list like he hadn't spoken. It really says something that she has it memorized at this point. “Texas Chainsaw, the Dorm that dripped Blood, and Pontypool.”
Josh nods in fond reminiscence. “All excellent choices that I could never regret. I’m a genius, really. But-- it's Scream. I thought you'd, you know, heard of it!”
Unable to find the words to properly point out that not everybody goes around with an encyclopedic knowledge of horror movies, Sam just shrugs.
Grin widening, Chris leans closer to Josh to faux-whisper: “Next she'll be saying she hasn't heard of Night of the Living Dead.”
“God forbid.” Josh clenches a fist, then shakes it for emphasis like it's an actual gesture of frustration people do.
Playing along, Sam taps her chin. “Oh, I know that one! Zombies, right? Or wait, was it vampires?”
Chris wiggles his fingers in her direction threateningly. “They're coming to gettttt you, Samantha!”
“Okay, I still know that's a reference. That's definitely your reference voice.”
It's then that Beth descends from above, climbing down the stairs while balancing several bowls of chips, which Josh and Chris immediately rise to help generously carry-- I insist, no, no, no, I insist. Beth's raised eyebrows show she knows exactly what the play is here.
“So,” She says, holding the last bowl close to her chest and her drink in her other hand as she sits on the couch. “It's Scream, right?”
Josh shoots her a thumbs up. Chris does a more enthusiastic thumbs up. Sam just shrugs again, unable to repress her own smile. Beth smiles back, her teeth showing.
“Awesome. Hannah will be here in a sec, I think the Mike diary is getting pulled out first.”
It's Josh's turn to scoff. Nothing turns his grin meaner than a mention of Mike-- especially in relation to Hannah. “What, did he walk by our house while our backs were turned? You guys should have said something, I would have waved.”
Chris sneaks his hand into Josh's chips, much less concerned. “Mayhaps Miss Emily changed their relationship status to complicated again. Or somebody got hit by a car. By Mike. Who knows!”
“I mean, It's nice to see Hannah so excited about something.” Sam says, carefully. She's actually got a lot of opinions about the whole Mike-Hannah thing, but she'd rather not open that can of worms right before a movie.
Beth rolls her eyes. “She could’ve picked less of an asshole to get excited about. Or just, someone who isn’t taken.”
“Like me!” Chris says.
“Actually, I was gonna say Matt.” Beth smirks. “You’re basically taken.”
“Oh, yeah.” Josh slings his arm over Chris’ shoulder, matching his sister’s smirk. “The girls can’t get enough of this guy! Practically dragging him off the street! Tearing him apart!”
“Who’s killing Chris?” Hannah asks, coming down the stairs with her arms conspicuously free of any diaries. She’s changed into her cozy pink sweater and gives Sam a little smile and wave when they make eye contact.
“Nobody!” Beth says.
“All women, apparently.” Sam says.
“Huh.” Hannah looks Chris over. “Checks out, I guess.” Before Chris can pretend to be offended, she sits herself down next to Beth, expression innocent. “So, Scream?”
Josh claps his hands together, then rubs them like he’s trying to get warm. “That’s right! Everybody ready? There will be no bathroom breaks, no pause for dinner--” Both Sam and Chris pretend to gasp as Chris reaches over to steal another handful of chips. Josh moves the bowl in the other direction. “IF you’re hungry, then you’re starving or eating each other-- I officially no longer care.”
Then he points at Sam with the remote he’s managed to pull out from between the couch cushions. “Now, keep your eyes open, Miss Giddings. You won’t wanna miss a second of this.”
***
February 2nd, 2016.
SAM, TUNNEL TO SANATORIUM.
5:37
Sam regrets leaving Chris behind almost immediately.
She had talked a big game about speed and time being of the essence, but in the back of her mind, she can still hear Josh's voice in those hours after they’d watched Scream, laughing through that running gag: I'll be right back!
Chris had promised that once already this night-- heading out into the storm to hunt for Josh, hugging Ashley before he went-- and he'd only survived then by the skin of his teeth. Had almost broken his ankle out there, if he was telling the story right.
Usually, Sam mentally toned down whatever pain Chris said he had suffered-- Sam, I swear, I almost FROZE to death out there, Sam, oh my god, you almost sliced my hand clean off-- knowing he was a fan of the Washington dramatics. But for once, she wonders what Chris had left out. She’d caught him rubbing at his leg in the saferoom, trying to hide his winces, and there was new blood on his coat. In the tense silence of the saferoom, the old man’s disappearance had been notable, vanished along with Chris’ urge to speak.
Ten minutes into their tense walk through the tunnels, Sam stops and announces, her voice hoarse: “This isn't right.”
Emily scoffs immediately. None of them had ended up wrapping her shoulder, so the blood oozing from her bite has continued to seep through to stain her jacket. She’s only complained once so far, which is how Sam knows nothing is going to be the same after tonight. “You're having second thoughts now? What, this couldn't happen in the saferoom?”
Ashley, who had stopped at the same instant that Sam had, chews on her lip as she examines Sam’s expression. Sam isn’t sure what she’s looking for until Ashley says, quietly: “Did you hear something?”
Both questions make Sam wince. “No-- and no. Second thoughts isn’t the right word. Or, uh, words. I’m just thinking-- we shouldn’t have left Chris.”
This time, Emily’s sneer is audible. “Oh, boohoo. He'll be fine. You go back, if you’re so suddenly worried.”
Any other night, Sam would be pissed at Emily’s tone-- at the implication that Emily doesn’t care, and that Sam’s own caring is a brand new development. But Sam had been there when Mike had told Josh that Jess was dead-- missing her whole fucking jaw, you freak-- and she’d been there when Emily had come bursting back into the lodge, trembling with a cocktail of emotions, yelling about how there’d been elk and Matt had gone over the cliff and then she’d found Beth’s head-- rotting and gross and, her head, Sam!
She knows Josh and Emily would take great insult in being compared to each other-- but all Sam could think of when she’d reached out to take a shaking Emily into her arms, exchanging a wide eyed look with Chris over her head, were those first days after the prank, before Josh remembered how to smile around the anger in his eyes.
“Is it even safe to go back?” Ashley asks. There’s dried blood still etched onto her face, starting to crack and crumble, and Sam wonders vaguely if it itches. “I mean-- he said he needed a break, and it’s been, like, ten minutes already. What if, if we go back, we lose Mike? And if we lose Mike-- we lose Josh, then we lose the cable car keys, then-- does it matter if we go back for Chris if we can’t even get off of this freaking mountain?”
It’s Sam’s turn to gnaw on her lip. She wishes she couldn’t see Ashley’s point. Many things about tonight have been an unpleasant surprise, to put it mildly, but the math Sam has found herself having to do over and over-- weighing the lives of her friends against each other, letting Mike point a gun at Emily with the safety off because what if, what if-- that might be the worst part.
And yes, she can see the logic here-- see the fact that continuing to follow Mike is the smarter, more cautious choice. But it’s Chris.
“I’ll go back.” Sam says, finally. Trying to sound sure of herself. “Just me. You guys keep going this way and-- we’ll catch up quick.”
Part of her is bracing for an argument, but Emily just grimaces. Maybe she can read the force of the determination in Sam’s eyes. When she speaks, her voice is barely louder than a murmur. “Great. Leave me with the bitch that wanted me dead.”
Ashley’s back straightens. “Oh, wow, sorry I’m not an expert in monster bites? Sorry that we just have SO much experience with monster bites! What if you had been infected, huh? What if--”
“Nobody’s infected, remember?” Sam interrupts. “So you’ll both be fine. Just stick together, and try not to kill each other.”
Both girls make a noise at that, and Sam, in all her kindness and generosity, does not point out how similar they sound.
“Okay?” She says, turning back to face the tunnel they had come from. It looks no more reassuring from this angle. At the sound of their silence, she answers herself: “Okay. I’ll be right--” Josh’s laughter echoes in her head, the running gag repeating. “I’ll be back soon.”
And she heads back into the darkness, alone.
***
When she does find Chris, she nearly runs into him.
Chris gives a yelp-- already throwing his arms up in front of his face like it’ll save him from the monster he clearly thinks she is. Sam also puts her hands up, wishing she hadn’t thrown that baseball bat away what now feels like a million years ago--but then she recognizes the yelp, and then the light of her headlamp catches on dirty blond hair, and the fur of a very big jacket.
“Chris!” She says then, breaking into a smile. Part of her had feared-- though she’d shoved it down as deep as she could-- that he had already vanished in the dark. Jaw missing, head ripped off, face smashed in. But he looks no worse for wear than when she had left him. Maybe a little shakier.
“Sam!” He cries. And then, in more of a whine: “Jesus. I think I’ve hit my lifetime quota of heart attacks in-- what, it’s been like, seven hours? Eight? Man, I’m already losing track of time down here!”
“Sorry, hi.” Sam glances down the tunnel past Chris, and is reassured at seeing nothing but the steady presence of dark, dripping walls. Somehow, that’s become the kind of thing she’s reassured by. “I’m glad you’re okay. You know,” She amends, remembering again that her standards have recently drastically lowered. “Not dead.”
“Yeah. Okay. Sure.” Chris’ smile shifts back into more of a gritting of his teeth. “Totally. Definitely not dead though.” He stares down at his hands, and both of them realize his fingers are trembling. Also, there’s blood on his sleeves. “Yep. Normal stuff.”
He glances up then, eyes staring past her like he’s just now remembering-- “Hey, where’s-- are Ash and Em okay? Not--”
“They’re fine.” Sam reassures him, before he can voice the other unpleasant possibility. “Plenty of energy left to argue, so I’m sure monsters would be a piece of cake.”
“Oh, awesome. Yeah, no, If it’s Em versus those things--”
“She’s won once already.” Sam agrees. Looking him up and down, she tries to judge the severity of his own scratches. “You feeling any more up for walking? All rested up?”
“Nope.” Chris smiles wearily. “But I’ll do it anyway.”
“That’s the spirit.”
He faux bows. The movement makes him wince, but he commits to it anyway, which gives her a great big burst of fondness that makes her chest hurt. “After you, miss.”
“Actually, I’ve had my fill of walking alone for, like, probably forever.” And before she can overthink the motion, she reaches out to hold his hand. His skin is warm-- really warm, which is wonderful for Sam’s own freezing hand, but he is uncomfortably sweaty. She doesn’t let go though. “I’m sticking to you like glue, mister. No getting rid of me now.”
“Oh, uh--” Chris stares down at their interlinked hands. She wishes she could see his eyes better behind his glasses, but she likes to think that he’s blushing. It doesn’t matter why she wants to think that. “Yeah--uh, okay. Probably a good call. Safe thing to do.”
“Yep.” She says. “And hey, I wanted to do it too. Good bonus.”
“Huh.” Chris says, mouth twitching like there’s so much more he wants to add, but he doesn’t, and Sam knows him well enough to know he’ll say it when he wants to and no sooner, so then they walk in silence for a while.
She gets used to his half-limp rhythm as they walk through the tunnels, thinking of Ashley and Emily while trying not to think of Ashley and Emily-- trying not to think of anyone else, really, because Sam has to believe Mike is fine, and Josh is fine, and everything’s going to be fine. She has to believe this horror movie will have a happy ending-- at least something more sweet than bitter, though she knows it's already impossible.
Sam hasn’t seen it yet, but it’s still too easy to picture jaws hanging loose, heads hitting rocks, teeth scraping bone. To wonder how many more goodbyes she won’t get to have. She really really hopes they won’t stumble upon Matt’s discarded boot. She can’t think of that possibility either.
Instead, they reach a split in the road-- one smaller tunnel leaning off to the left in a way that seems to dip and fall into another cavern-- and then the screams start.
“HELP? HELP! HELP!”
Sam’s heartbeat stutters in her chest at the sound, body aware of the wrongness before she is. Beside her, Chris stumbles to a stop, wide eyes staring at the new tunnel with quiet, blatant terror. The voice is shrill, almost unrecognizable in its fear and desperation, but not quite. It sounds like--it can’t be, she can’t think of--
“That’s Beth.” Sam whispers. “That’s-- that’s Beth’s voice.”
“It can’t be. No, no way, it’s not her.” Chris doesn’t even turn to look at her, gaze stuck on the tunnel like something will crawl out and kill him if he looks away for a second too long. “That doesn’t-- you know that makes no sense. It’s been a freaking year, uh, for one thing, and Em said--”
“I know what Em said.”
She gets the urge to watch the new tunnel too, but she turns to glance behind them instead, searching those tunnels for a sign of anything moving closer. There’s nothing. But the screams come again, and yes, it’s clear that they’re coming from that small left tunnel. Already, the voice has started begging, like it senses there’s an audience.
Sam swallows. “I--we have to check. I know it probably isn’t-- I know it doesn’t make sense, but nothing is making sense anyway, and, I mean, if we miss our one chance at a good thing-- if-- what, just because this is the limit?”
“It’s not her.” Chris repeats. “There are limits, Sam-- there’s gotta be limits.” He finally tears his gaze away from the tunnel to look down at her, and his frown only deepens at her own stubborn expression. He sighs. “Oh god. We’re going to get murdered.”
Still, he follows her as she steps off the path, crawling through the crevice behind her even as he continues to mutter: “Oh god, oh god, we really should have shown you more horror movies. Monster ones, for sure.”
He stops any attempts at joking when they drop though, crying out in pain at the impact-- it’s a several foot drop, admittedly more than she’d expected-- before he muffles the noise with his free hand, biting down on his fist. With a wince of her own, she squeezes his other hand, an unspoken apology. He gives her a tight smile, but he stays quiet as they advance through the new darker, wetter tunnel.
The screams get louder and more desperate as they approach-- PLEASE, PLEASE, HELP, PLEASE-- and Sam starts to notice a horrible banging noise underneath the screaming that’s getting louder too. Chris’ grip tightens on hers as they step past stalagmites, and her nose wrinkles as drops of something wet land in her hair-- she tries not to think about that either.
Quickly enough, they reach the trapdoor.
It’s impossible to miss. The wood is draped in old chains, with a lock around the latch, practically jerking forwards from the strength of the banging that’s coming from underneath. Whoever-- whatever-- is thrashing under the trapdoor, is strong. Inhumanly so. As Sam and Chris stop in front of it, wearing matching grimaces, the screaming changes.
“HELP? SAM?”
Sam sucks in a breath.
And the voice gets a little bit more quiet then, like it heard that. Still aware of its audience. Though the franticness doesn’t abide in the slightest. “Sam? Sam? Please, Sam? Josh? Chris? Chris?”
When Chris speaks again, his voice is a croak. “We-- we can’t open that.” His eyes are wide when he looks at her, like he’s worried she’ll disagree. Like she trusts whatever’s under the trapdoor.
“No-- yeah.” Sam keeps her own voice quiet too, scared to talk too loud. “That’s-- it’s not Beth.”
Chris nods. “That old guy-- he, uh, he said they do voices. That they can sound like anyone. So, you know, that’s why--”
“That still means it has to know Beth’s voice.” Sam glares at the trapdoor. “Why would it?” Even as she asks, she realizes she doesn't want the answer. Sam is sick to the stomach with answers.
They watch the trapdoor shake for another few seconds, and Chris shivers.
“Sam? Sam? Sam?”
“I think we should go now.” Sam murmurs.
“Yeah. Yeah.” Chris swallows. “That’s-- that's close enough.”
And with final uneasy glances at the screaming, trembling planks of wood, they turn away from the trapdoor-- Sam? SAM? PLEASE, SAM! HELP-- taking the tunnel the rest of the way out until they make it back to the main path.
The screams follow them out.
***
Sam's honestly surprised that Chris is still following her.
When they run back into Ashley and Emily-- both still alive and with no new wounds to show for it-- she expects him to join them in their flight back to the saferoom. Especially staring up at the steep walls of the cave that aren't insanely challenging for Sam, but are surely impossible for Chris, especially with his injuries.
But he just scoffs when she offers him this way out, cheerful enough now that it's been a bit since they've run into that trapdoor. And well, Sam doesn't want Chris to get hurt-- but she doesn't want to leave him behind again either.
So they make their way up the cave wall-- Sam reaching the top first, and calling advice down at Chris, who needs a few more attempts to join her at the top, fumbling with the smooth stones. It's stressful, and not just because she can easily imagine Chris slipping from a little too high up and snapping his neck-- she can't stop hearing Ashley's voice, worrying about Mike, long gone and getting further away by the second-- but it is worth it when Sam finally gets to grab Chris’ hands again and pull him up beside her.
As soon as both his feet are planted on the top of the cliff face, Chris allows himself to collapse.
“Wow.” He huffs, trying to catch his breath. His face is red from exertion, fingers cold and cut up, and she lets him sit on the ground beside her for a second. “Jesus. Me, 1. Climbing class, also 1.”
“Proud of you.” Sam smiles, and she pulls him to his feet.
From there, it's a straight shot deeper into the mines, and not long until they stumble upon an even-more-injured Mike slamming a door behind him, only for a half-burnt monster to smash its way through anyway and jump onto him, attempting to maul his chest.
His cries bleed into the monster's shrieks, and Chris takes a panicked step back as Sam goes running forward, picking up a shovel and smashing it into the creature's head in one smooth motion. Another hit and the monster goes down with a shriek.
She kicks its body for good measure, then focuses back on Mike, who's coughing and rubbing at his chest. “Fuck-- thanks. Jesus. I was starting to write my will in my head again.”
“Again?” Sam quirks a brow, reaching out her hand to help him up. He grabs it with a smile, and she notices faintly that his hand is smaller than Chris’, with hair on the back of it.
“Hey, it's been a rough night.” He grins at her as he gets to his feet, dusting himself off. Looking him up and down-- there are new scratches on his neck and arms, and the bruises on his face look worse now-- Sam has to agree.
“Tell me about it.” Chris mutters, watching them from where he stands closer to the wall. “Uh, that thing's dead for real, right? Just checking. Also, hi.”
“Oh-- hi.” Mike blinks at him.
It's kind of funny, Sam thinks, that Mike isn't at all been surprised to see Sam in the tunnels, like she belongs there. But Chris throws him for a loop. Maybe it's because everything about Chris screams not meant to survive a horror movie. Sam is very very glad that impression hasn't been proven right. Yet-- adds the Josh in her head, and she shakes the thought away with a grimace.
Recovering quickly, Mike turns his grin on Chris. “Well, it's good to see you're still here, man. Run into any more monsters?”
Chris scratches at his head, eyes flickering in Sam's direction. “Uh, technically not. I mean, unless you count us hearing Beth. You know, screaming, behind a creepy trapdoor that was banging and shit. Classic stuff.”
“Beth?” The smile vanishes again, Mike’s eyebrows drawing together. Any other night, Sam suspects he’d accuse Chris of lying. “Hold on, but Em said--”
“It wasn’t Beth.” Sam says, before the conversation can enter a circle. “Look, in the notebook, and, remember, Chris heard from the old guy-- the monsters can do that. It’s how they catch their prey.”
Mike’s mouth twitches. “Oh. Awesome. Great. Really great.” He drags his hands down his face. “God. Let’s go find Josh so we can burn this fucking mountain to the ground.”
Chris pumps a fist weakly. “Hear hear!”
And the exciting trip through the tunnels continues.
Sam finds Chris’ hand again, because there’s something comforting about that constant confirmation that he’s still there, beside her. Something that no monster can imitate to drag her down into the dark. He doesn’t question it this time, squeezing her hand immediately, though he does point out she’s got the option of Mike now too, and Sam retorts that it’s true, but I’m not holding Mike’s hand now, am I?
Chris laughs-- a highpitched sound that means she’s genuinely thrown him off his rhythm-- says huh, uh, guess not, and doesn’t argue again.
He does complain when they hit the underground lake though. Especially when he realizes they’re going to have to enter it. Any other time, she’d find his muttered notes that the water is absolutely going to give us hypothermia and the monster is totally hiding in there funny, but it’s seconds after they’ve found Beth’s empty grave, and Sam knows they’re both turning that new detail in their heads over and over.
She was buried, wasn’t she? Hannah must have buried her. So then, who dug her up? What dug her up?
Sliding into the cold water, Sam just knows she’s getting close to some terrible, terrible truth. Something that’ll make the rest of this horrible night pale in comparison. Chris and Mike know it too, which is why they bicker as the three of them slosh their way through the waist-deep water that is probably giving them hypothermia.
They all know, and when they find the diary, and Mike says-- “Hey-- shit. That’s Hannah’s handwriting.”-- Sam closes her eyes for a brief second, inhales, and braces for the worst.
HUNGRY, HUNGRY, HUNGRY, scream the scattered pages, and Chris moans in fear from where he’s reading over her shoulder. “Ohhhhhh, god. Oh, shit. Do--do you guys think-- did Hannah-- oh god.” His hand goes up to cover his mouth.
“I think she fucking did--she--” Mike swallows. “Jesus Christ. Hungry. And then--Beth? She--”
Sam closes the diary, because now she knows. When she finally speaks, she doesn’t recognize the sounds coming out of her mouth. “...That’s how she knew how to do the voice.”
Banging and screaming and pleading with them. Calling their names and pretending that someone is coming. That help is on the way. That it won’t just be days and days and days, and HUNGRY and PLEASE--
She shakes her head, forcing herself out of her thoughts. Reminds herself that they’re still chasing dawn. Looking up, she sees that Chris’ face is ghostly, that Mike’s hands are clenched at his sides, and because both of them seem temporarily out of commission, Sam says, still not feeling like she’s the one speaking: “We need to keep going.”
And they do.
They do, but only to immediately falter again as they stumble on a different kind of horror, as Mike and Sam yank open a failing old door only to be pushed back at the force of the wave of cold, stinking water that comes through. And the water is carrying-- oh no, no-- and up overhead, hanging on the ceiling, Sam sees--
Sam doesn’t think she’ll ever forget the way Mike says Jess’ name then. She doesn’t think she’ll forget any of it-- the way Chris bends over to gag at the smell and the sudden sight of Matt, hanging from a hook still missing that fucking boot, and Jess’ carved-up head with the eyes rolled up, and the old man’s dangling headless body, blood oozing down in thick strands, and god, the smell.
She shuts her eyes again, only for a second-- don't think about it, don't look, don't think about any of it-- and then she grabs Chris’ hand with both of her own, and pulls him through the rest of the room, desperately searching for an exit. Mike staggers at their heels until he catches sight of Josh through the slats of wood, immediately calling them over.
It’s Sam’s turn to look over his shoulder, stomach dropping when she realizes how much has changed in the few hours since she’d last seen Josh. Somehow, she finds herself missing the moment when he’d taken the mask off, and she’d thought everything had been revealed. What is she supposed to tell him now?
Josh, who already doesn't look much better than the corpses. Muttering: “I trust you, no, no, no-- I do.” And staring straight through them, eyes bulging with fear.
They hurry over to him, calling his name, and when he only looks at them blankly, Mike raises his hand to slap him, but is stopped by Chris grabbing his arm. “Don’t hit him, dude!”
Mike glares at him, gesturing at Josh with his free hand and scoffing: “He’s barely there, man! I’m just trying to get him back on this planet!”
“Well-- you-- you don’t have to hit him! He’s scared, and confused, probably. I mean, clearly! He doesn’t need you hurting him too!”
Watching them both in this moment-- seeing the way Chris has straightened his back, a reminder of him being notably taller than Mike-- Sam has the thought that Chris has always been better at arguing for others over himself. Like it reminds him he has standards.
As they snap at each other, she comes closer to Josh, letting go of Chris’ hands in order to gently take both of Josh’s. He flinches at the motion, but his eyes glance down to stare at her hands like he’s actually seeing them, which Sam chooses to see as a good sign.
“Hey.” Mike nods in Josh’s direction. “If you’ve got a better plan, feel fucking free. I just want the keys. He killed--he-- because of him-- shit. Just-- you deal with him. Leave me out of it.”
As Mike pulls his arm out of Chris’ grip, Sam mutters, holding Josh’s hands firmly: “Josh. Do you know where you are? Please, come on. We need you.”
“Beth?” Josh croaks. Then, his bloodied brow furrows, gaze clearing just a little. “...Sam?” He examines her face, then looks past her, frowning as he sees Chris and Mike too. There’s a tremble going through him like a live current. “H-How did you guys get here?”
“We walked.” Chris gives him his best smile. “I mean, I guess we climbed a bit too. You’d have been proud. I guess. You, you okay, man?”
She knows for a fact there’d been more Chris wanted to say to him. He’d been muttering, in the tunnels when it was just him and Sam, about what the hell he’d say to Josh when he found him. Sometimes angry, sometimes determined in a softer way. But all that falls away now.
Sam gets it. Just a second ago, she’d thought she’d tell Josh about what really happened to his sisters. She'd really believed it.
Josh stares past him again, gnawing at his lip. “N-not really.”
Chris’ laugh comes off-kilter. Every time he laughs, it sounds like he wasn’t ready for it either. “Yeah. I mean-- yeah. Yeah. It’s bad.”
“It is.” Sam agrees. “Which is why we need the cable car key. Josh-- focus-- do you still have it?”
Something in her loosens when he nods nervously and hands it to her, a sign of something actually going right for once. Mike sighs audibly in relief. But it’s not over yet.
She looks up, squinting up at the first rays of dawn coming from far, far above them, peeking out of a hole in the steep rock, and she tries to imagine the four of them getting out that way. Like he’s reading her thoughts, Mike says: “There’s no way Josh is getting out through there. Hell, I doubt Chris could.” Belatedly, he adds: “Sorry, man.”
“Hey, fuck you too, dude, I made it this far! I’m basically a climbing pro!”
Sam tries to track a route up the face of the rock, doing mental math all the while, then shakes her head, turning back to their small group. “No, unfortunately, Mike’s right. It’s not worth the risk. And we don’t have the time-- Han-- that thing,” Both Chris and Mike grimace at the word choice. “Could come back whenever.”
She pauses to see if she hears anything, but there’s just the faint sound of dripping-- which she doesn’t wanna think about-- and wind whistling through the cave. No more screams, no more banging. Somehow, this feels worse.
“It’s okay.” She decides. “We’ll stick together, go back the same way we came. You know--meet up with the others back at the lodge. Then the cable car.”
“Easy peasy.” Chris says, sounding like he actually thinks this will be neither easy nor peasy.
Josh makes a noise that might be a laugh or a whimper. Sam isn’t sure. But the four of them do start walking again, though Sam’s shoulders twitch when Josh slips his hand into hers. He flinches at the movement, and is about to pull away with a stuttered apology, but Sam doesn’t let him.
“No, hey, it’s a good call.” And she puts her other hand back in Chris’. They probably look a bit silly-- and Mike glances back at them with an unreadable look that Sam could easily interpret as judgement-- but whatever. Sam doesn’t have the space for shame right now.
Especially when the next room is the one filled with bodies, sending them all back into miserable silence-- with the occasional murmur that Sam doesn’t hear and doesn’t want to hear. She focuses on keeping hold of both their hands, and of leading them back to the lake.
Though she lets go when they’re in the water, just so she can be properly in the front, watching out for the monsters that it’s hard to believe Chris had been joking about so recently. Josh’s teeth chatter as they move, and in the corner of her vision, she sees Chris-- is this okay, man--slip an arm over Josh’s shoulder.
She’s a few meters in front of them when she realizes that this is just another kind of separation, a dangerous kind-- and then the claws reach up from the lake, grab her by the front of the hoodie, and pull her under.
She doesn't have time to scream.
Instead-- cold water everywhere, no air-- the sudden fear of drowning in a meter of water.
Don’t breathe in-- she thinks-- then, don’t move, don’t fight, oh god, don’t do anything--
Her skin burns with cold. Her lungs already hurt. She’s pulled down and then pushed until her face hits the bottom of the lake-- not that deep, I can make it if it lets me go, but if it doesn’t---
But it does.
The claws vanish, and there’s a second where Sam doesn’t move, body aching and lungs hurting, scared that if she does move, the claws will just shove her further into the sand, letting her struggle. Playing with its food.
But after a few seconds, the fear is beat out by the pain, and the vague question of the others-- I wasn’t alone, remember-- and Sam swims a few feet forwards before she surfaces with a gasp.
She moves further even as she blinks water out of her eyes, stumbling towards a large shape that she realizes quickly is a rock. There’s other blurry colors too, blues and grays and beiges with spots of red, colors which reveal themselves to be Chris frantically dragging Josh towards said rock.
She follows them, mouthing their names as she stumbles towards the rock. She catches up fast because she’s got nothing to drag, and she shoves them behind the rock, nearly tripping as she joins them.
Chris is breathing really fast, dangerously loud, and Josh is trying to speak, so Sam shushes them both and shoves her hand over Josh’s mouth on instinct.
It’s only then that she becomes aware of two things at once.
They are not the only ones making noises.
Mike isn’t with them.
“NO, NO, NO-- HANNAH-- HANNAH?”
Sam turns around.
The monster-- Hannah, her mind thinks, betraying her-- has caught its prey at last. Sam hadn’t fully processed how tall it was until this moment, lifting Mike with both hands easily, his feet dangling right above the water. The claws wrap around either side of his face, elbows far out like the monster wants to crush, but the monster isn’t crushing.
Its mouth is open, but it’s Mike that’s begging with her. “Hannah-- please--”
The creature tilts its head, staring down at her newest catch. Without looking, Sam feels Chris wrap his arm around her back, pulling her closer to him and further out of the monster's view. He’s trembling badly.
Then Mike’s screaming starts in earnest as the creature drags him away. Sam waits for it to stop, eyes following the pair of them as the monster retreats to its lair, but it doesn’t. Don’t ask why. Don’t think about it. Even though she thinks she already knows. Oh god, she knows too much.
Chris’ arm is a heavy, comforting weight-- a taste of warmth for her soaked body that’s starting to shiver too--and she tries to focus on it instead, shoving back any other thoughts and turning back to her surviving friends. Promising herself: I can get them out. I can still get Chris and Josh out. She’s trying so hard not to hear Mike’s screams fade in the distance, echoing over the water.
But even under her palm, she can still hear Josh’s pleas, his voice cracked and fervent, begging:
“No, no, no, please, please, I don’t wanna see this, I don’t wanna see this anymore--”
***
November 16th, 2014.
SAM, WASHINGTON BASEMENT.
22:41.
As soon as the credits to Scream start rolling, Josh turns to Sam with his signature post-horror-movie big grin.
Jess had joked once that horror movies are probably the closest thing Josh has to sex, and then Em had said that made him a huge slut. Sam had laughed at both comments, though she would never admit to this.
“Well?” He demands. “Let’s hear it. Sam-- you get it now?”
It’s kind of cute that he needs the affirmation, like they hadn’t all been talking through the whole movie. There’d been some serious commentary-- but mostly jokes, and people arguing over who was supposedly the hottest character. Hannah had a thing for Billy, which had surprised no one and had sent Beth into hysterics, but both Josh and Chris had been scandalized at Sam’s insistence that Randy wasn’t that bad, guys, you’re just mean.
“Hm, I dunno.” She says, still watching the credits roll. Then, because messing with Josh is fun: “It was pretty dumb of them to stab each other.”
“Hilariously dumb!” Chris cheers, from his new incredibly awkward position half-on, half-off the couch. She’s kind of impressed at how much he’s been able to slouch over the course of the movie. The empty bowl of chips rests on his stomach.
Josh dips a finger into said bowl to lick up the chip dust before he wags the same finger-- gross-- in Sam’s direction. “What-- now hold on, that’s the point! Horror movies wouldn’t be any fun if everyone did actually follow the rules all the time!” Now, both hands come up for emphasis. “There’s gotta be BLOOD, Sam. The people demand it!”
“Gross.” Hannah groans, pressing her face into her pillow. “This is why Sam never wants to watch horror movies with us. Cause you always make it weird.”
“Yeah.” Beth grins. “Maybeeee turn down the psycho act a little.”
Hannah winces into the pillow, but Beth doesn’t seem to notice. Sam does, but she dismisses it immediately. Instead she says, thoughtfully: “I guess there wasn’t that much blood. Less people died than I expected.”
She blames the Alien movies and Texas Chainsaw for setting the bar so high, really.
“I mean,” Chris scratches at his chin. “Uh, it’d be kind of a bummer movie if literally everyone died. It doesn’t always have to be just the final girl, you know.”
“Need that canon fodder for the sequels.” Beth adds. “Just in case you get too attached.”
“Huh. Guess so.”
She does have to admit, at least to herself, that it was a pretty good movie. And no surprises to why this group liked it-- full of bits and referential humor. If anything, it highlighted the fact that Sam really hasn’t seen that many slashers. Maybe Josh thought it’d be good bait.
Immediately validating that thought, Josh tells her: “Aw, Sammy, don’t worry, I’ll make sure the next one’s a real bloodbath!”
“Gee, thanks.” She smiles. Then, as soon as he turns to his sisters, she shoots exaggeratedly wide eyes in Chris’ direction, who chuckles and then tries to cover it with a cough.
On the other couch, Hannah and Beth are putting their heads together. “Anything but Saw.” Hannah says. “That one makes me sad.” If Sam had to guess, she would not call the most intimidating part of Saw its supposed sadness. Beth nods. “Maybe the Descent? Orrrr Ravenous?”
Josh nods too, with that spark in his eye that says he’s going through his mental rolodex of horror media. “Yes, yes, all good options! I’m liking the direction here.”
Chris holds a silent finger up at Sam in a one moment gesture, then speaks up, finally removing the bowl from his chest and sitting up properly. It makes his back crack. “Hey, now hold on, why don’t we let Sam pick the next one? You know, let her broaden her own horror palette?”
My hero-- mouths Sam. Chris’ smile widens, cheeks dimpling. That’s cute too.
The girls glance up in unison, and Josh perks up too, like the three of them are being pulled up by the same puppeteer. Sam wonders for a second if it’s a scandalous question somehow, but she’s proven wrong when Josh’s grin widens instead.
“Even better! No complaining if you're the one picking. You can make it as bloody or feel good as you like-- you know, the vegetarian equivalent.”
“Are there even vegetarian horror movies?” Hannah asks, leaning back on the couch.
Sam's mouth quirks up. “Maybe it means no plants are harmed in the making of the movie. Or, only plants.”
“Well,” Chris says. “I'll support any pick of yours, plant murder or not.”
Her smile widens. “It won't be forgotten, mister. And hey, next horror movie we see, it's your turn to scream, you jerks!” Her cheeks flush a little to say it. If there’s one thing about this group-- it’s that they bring out her passionate side. She doesn’t think she’d have nearly as many movie opinions without them.
Matching that energy, Josh whoops, and both the twins cheer. Chris beams too, nothing but pure secondhand delight in it, and Sam's heart swells. There's no need to read into any of it-- she already knows everything she needs to.
Maybe she's okay with more horror movies after all.