Chapter Text
In the centre of a cavern, a figure stood. Bent almost double, with shaking hands held fearfully out in front as if to ward off attackers threatening to leap out from the darkness. Thin rays of moonlight filtered weakly through some of the cavern, illuminating the walls and some of the floor, but it went unseen.
Shallow, rapid breaths tore out from between chapped and bloodied lips, doing nothing to lift the constricting, chest squeezing sensation of breathlessness. Every few seconds, words would punctuate the silence, a torrent of breathless pleas that tumbled from within and were swallowed up almost immediately in the immense cavern.
“No, please, no. Please, no, no, no-”
Then abrupt nothingness — several long, drawn out seconds of silence, until the pleas started up again.
“Oh, god. Please, no. No, no, no.”
Glazed eyes stared out in fear, peering into the darkness and the forms and faces obscured in the shadows.
“D-don’t do this to me, please—”
Peering into nothing.
Away from unseen hands he would pull.
“Don’t t-touch me—”
And a violent, full body flinch would rack through him, as if recoiling from a gunshot, and his shivering would intensify, teeth chattering so hard the words were barely understandable.
“No, no, no, leave me alone, leave me alone.”
In the cavern, Joshua Washington shouted into the darkness.
“Go away, go away, go away, go away—”
Alone.
Chris liked to think he was a smart man. Rational. Level-headed.
He liked to think himself many things, and one of them was loyal, which is why he was stumbling through the pitch blackness of the mines with only the light of his phone to guide his way.
He was looking for Josh.
Something in him had pushed him down here, away from the relative safety of the others and the approaching dawn on the surface. Something that crept into his every thought and forced its way into his mind, past his defences.
Something that told him you already let Josh down once.
You can’t leave him behind again.
And now it drove him forwards, deeper into the suffocating mines.
The light given off by his phone did very little to alleviate the pressing darkness around him, but he had no other choice, so he held it unsteadily ahead of him to guide his path. Every now and then, he’d flash it around him, small gasps involuntarily escaping him when the light caught on rocks and bounced shadows off the walls. Immediately, he’d swallow them down, and after another brief glimpse around him he’d turn it to the ground and hurry forward once more.
He didn’t know how long he’d been down here. He’d only burst through the door from the Sanitorium minutes ago. Minutes, but what felt like years.
How many? Five? Ten?
He wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter.
He hadn’t found Josh, and he wasn’t leaving until he did.
“Don’t say I never did anything for you,” he whispered, an empty echo of his words from before. Immediately, they reminded him of the empty shed and bloodstained floor where he’d lost Josh the first time, of exactly what he hadn’t done—
didn’t make it in time, didn’t save him when you should have
— and he wished he could take them back.
To comfort himself, or maybe just to get his mind off it, he flashed the light around again, and forced himself to breathe when he turned back around without seeing anything.
“It’s okay,” he breathed to himself, nearly silently. “It’s okay.”
His almost inaudible murmurs were the only noise apart from the occasional crunch of his footsteps on loose rocks. The empty, lifeless silence of the mines was nearly overwhelming, and the longer he spent down here the stronger he felt the inexplicable urge to break it, to scream Josh’s name at the top of his lungs and hear his voice echo off the walls around him.
Except that it was a death sentence for him at the least, for Josh on the off chance he was conscious, nearby, and responsive, and that thought left his stomach twisted into jittery, nerve-wracking knots, so he forced the compulsion away and forced himself to keep silent.
But the minutes ticked by, and all his doubts shredded away at his determination, rearing up in tandem with every shadow just to wear him down.
This was a bad idea. Josh could be anywhere.
He shook his head, tried uselessly to steady his shaking hands, and kept forward.
“I’m coming, Josh,” he whispered, hoping hearing the words aloud would steel his resolve.
But the invasive thoughts kept creeping in, amplified by the endless darkness and the fear that threatened to overwhelm him at every turn.
This is madness. It’s not too late to turn back.
He flashed the light around, lingering for several seconds too long on the rock beside him as if he was convinced something would suddenly jump from behind it. The second that thought registered in his mind, he turned determinedly back around, his pace quickening as if he could put distance between himself and the thoughts in his head.
And still they wormed at him.
There’s no chance of finding him. The others won’t have given up yet. They’d still be waiting. Turn back now before it’s too late.
“Not happening,” he whispered, but his voice cracked on the last word and gave him away. He sped up more, the sound of his own fear doubling back on him and feeding into his ever-present paranoia.
In a moment of sudden awareness — of course you’re losing it you’re down here alone —frustration at his weakening resolve shot through him, tinged with the still growing panic, and he wasn’t aware that he’d picked up his pace so much that he was nearly running until he didn’t have enough time to register the dimly lit rocks in his path before he tripped straight over them.
He landed heavily, with a painful “oomph” as all the air was forced from his lungs. He groaned, and then froze, his chest seizing with fear as his voice echoed down the mines around him, along with the paralysingly loud clatter of the rocks he’d kicked. For several long seconds after the sound had faded, there was silence.
Then, from behind him, an inhuman screech.
On the dirty ground of the mine floor, Chris’ breath caught in his throat. He tried to pull himself up but he couldn’t move, paralysed with a terror that locked up every fibre in his being before his mind kick-started him into action and he scrambled up. His hands clawed desperately for purchase along the ground as he pulled himself to his feet and began to run, all rational thought fleeing from his mind.
His instincts had kicked in, his fight or flight response taking over when panic had overwhelmed him, and in that moment the only thing he wanted was to put distance between himself and the creature behind him.
He couldn’t think, couldn’t get his thoughts under control, operating on pure instinct and a driving need within him screaming at him to run, to move, to get away as fast as he can because it was right behind him, right behind him—
And as he rounded a corner he realised running was the last thing he was meant to do.
He skidded to a stop, his muscles locking into place. In a split second decision, he moved only to slam himself against the wall, pressing himself as closely against it as he could before he forced himself to still every part of his body.
And he waited.
Inside his head, his mind was racing, thoughts bouncing off one another and whirling around with vicious ferocity until he felt sick. His body was so tense it hurt, and he could feel blood welling up inside his mouth from where he’d slammed his cheek into the wall and bitten it. The urge to spit it out grew steadily stronger as the seconds passed, almost laughable in how intrusive the thought was in the midst of his irrational, panic tinged mind.
Then, over his thoughts, he heard an unidentifiable sound, so close and so sudden he nearly flinched away from it. A distant part of his brain kept him frozen, kept his reaction barely in check and his entire body pressed against the hard wall of the mine.
A second later, a clawed hand reached around the corner. Chris was flooded with cold, paralysing terror as it grabbed hold of a rock protruding from the wall, inches from his face, and began pulling itself towards him.
It was followed by a forearm, elongated and sickly white in the darkness, and out of his peripheral vision Chris watched as the Wendigo emerged around the corner. Its rancid breath hit him moments later, as it leaned in towards him, reaching up with one arm to grab onto a beam in the mine roof directly over his head and pull itself up in one fluid movement.
It clung there for several moments, holding partly to the ceiling and partly to the wall. Desperately, Chris tried to resist the urge to pull down and away from it, the knowledge of how closely above him it was hovering leaving him torn between his instinctual urge to pull away, and his awareness that it would be the last thing he would ever do if he did.
He managed to keep himself still, but his entire body rebelled against the pressure with which he pushed himself into the wall, trying to make himself as small as possible. The rise and fall of his chest was nearly imperceptible, the shallow breaths he was drawing in barely enough, and dizziness began to make his head whirl sickeningly from fear and lack of oxygen.
Rocks crumbled down onto his head and he jolted, freezing immediately. Dust filled his eyes, leaving him even more blinded, and he was desperately fighting back the desire to wipe his eyes when he realised the Wendigo was moving.
Relief began to flood through him, spreading sweetly through his veins, the flicker of hope that it might leave and he might survive this bursting into a small flame within him.
I’m gunna make it to you, Josh, he thought, until a clawed foot planted itself onto his partially outstretched arm as the Wendigo lowered itself on top of him.
In a white hot spike of pain, his arm collapsed — forced down under the unexpected weight of the Wendigo. He barely caught himself from collapsing with it, the sudden agonising wrench in his shoulder drawing out a whimper that he couldn’t bite back in time.
There was a hiss as the Wendigo landed on the ground, mingling with his small noise of fear and drowning it out. As it turned towards him, Chris closed his eyes, squeezed them tightly shut, vowed that the sight of its wicked sharp teeth bearing down on him wouldn’t be the last thing he would ever see.
He expected darkness. Expected pain, absolutely, but for him to spend his last moments in darkness.
Instead, he found light. Flashes of memories danced in front of his eyes the second they slipped shut, sparks of happiness and brightness and warmth.
Images of Josh, laughing, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Glimpses of Mike, pulling ridiculous faces to make Jess laugh; the expression that Emily made when she tried to pretend she wasn’t amused by something.
Hot, sticky breath washed over his face, the stench of rotting corpses, but he didn’t move, didn’t open his eyes.
Ashley and Sam, curled up in front of the fireplace reading books together. Matt, lounging on the couch behind them with a sports catalogue in his hands.
The sound of the Wendigo’s jaw clicking filled his ears, but he was deaf to it, numb to everything but the happy memories he was reliving.
Josh again, waving his hands around while explaining something, excitement evident in his eyes.
There was another noise, indeterminable, but still, Chris remained unmoving. Lost himself in the sweet promises of a reality he would never again experience, but could hold with him until his dying breath.
Josh, gesturing towards him, calling him with a “Here, Cochise,”, beckoning him with long fingers.
Josh, rolling his eyes, tilting his head towards the ceiling in exasperation.
Josh, smiling.
Silence.
Chris opened his eyes. There was nothing in front of him. The long mine path around him was empty.
The Wendigo was gone.
He collapsed to his knees and stayed like that, fighting off the sudden exhaustion that sapped the remnants of his strength from his body and left him drawing in ragged, uneven breaths. For several long minutes he couldn’t move, couldn’t think, desperately wishing he could lose himself again in the memories and the faint whispers of happiness that felt like they hovered, out of reach, an eternity away.
But soon, the cold air of the mines sunk in past the numbness, past the shock, and it was enough to remind him that he was still alive. The fact that he’d escaped meant nothing to him — if anything, the close encounter had fortified the belief that he’d been trying to push away since the second he’d stepped foot in the mines.
He was doomed to die down here. He’d never find Josh, never make it out with the both of them, and even if he did, it would be to a life completely different.
When another Wendigo screech echoed down the path towards him, he crawled numbly to his feet, exhaustion flooding through him and tears prickling hotly in his eyes at the fact that for all he’d thought he was level-headed, he was down here chasing ghosts.
Josh screamed.
He screamed at shadows, at ghosts, at nothing. He screamed at his sisters, at his family, at his psychologist, at his friends. He shouted at them to go away, to leave me alone, that I don’t take orders from you, until he didn’t even know what he was saying and his throat was so hoarse that he wasn’t sure if he was making noise anymore.
But they didn’t leave. They circled around him, swirling shadows that took forms and lashed out at him, laughing when he flinched away.
“No,” he managed, when his sisters materialised in front of him. “No more.”
This time, they were silent, no taunting voices and haunting sing songs. They just extended their hands towards him, silent, watching him with eyes that had stared so accusingly into his soul and shredded any remaining doubt of his guilt.
He watched, numb and empty, until he saw his own hands reach out for theirs. Before he could close his fingers around them, they disappeared, and he grasped at nothing.
“No,” he wailed, aware of what they were doing to him, what it meant.
As they materialised in front of him once more, this time with broken bones and bloodied faces, he closed his eyes. The second they shut, they refused to open again, rebelled against dragging heavy lids up over eyes that didn’t want to see anymore until panic shot through him at the fact that with his eyes closed he was defenseless and blind.
By the time he opened his eyes again, the shadows were gone.
Hesitantly, he spun. The weak rays of light around him still went unseen. To him, he was surrounded with darkness, impenetrable and inescapable, where anything could reach out and close clawed fingers around him, drag him away—
He slid to his knees. There were footsteps behind him, but he was facing away, and he didn’t have the strength to turn again.
“Leave me alone,” he managed, his voice raspy and weak.
He began curling into himself, but the fleeting sensation of a cold hand curling around his shoulder made him lash out, a scream tearing itself from his abused throat.
He crawled to his feet again, stumbling to face whatever it was, and in front of him stood Chris.
Darkness.
“Endless,” Chris mumbled to himself. “Jesus Christ, it never ends.”
His steps crunched quietly as he pushed on, still scared, still terrified, some bone deep ache of fear that pulsed through him with every step. Still hyper aware of every noise apart from his own, convinced that the Wendigo was back and this was the end for him now, wasn’t it, he couldn’t keep pushing his luck forever.
Still exhausted, the dogged tiredness that had been hovering at the edges of his conscious for hours now wrapping itself around him.
There was only so much strain the human body could take, and he felt like he’d been pushed to the limit. His steps had been slower since the last Wendigo incident, his feet dragging and his outstretched arm holding the light ahead of him drooping lower and lower. The occasional burst of fear would run through him, as if to remind him what he was doing — find Josh find Josh — and where he was — please god not lost, not down here — and his pace would pick up again.
But inevitably, it would slow, his tired body unable to push energy through to his aching limbs, his dragging feet, his drooping arm. And over him crept a cold blanket of hopelessness, trying to extinguish the tiny flame he held in his heart that whispered Josh was down here somewhere, that promised he would find him.
And beyond that, mentally. If he was coping, he was doing it only by pushing every single memory of the night directly from his mind, and throwing himself in his goal.
Find Josh. Save him. Because Josh had to be alright, and Chris had to be able to get him out of here. Yet despite his efforts to push everything away, he couldn’t ignore his doubt, doubled by the resounding echoes of his friends voices trying to convince him not to go.
Mike’s voice resonated in his head.
“I can’t let you do that. It’s a fucking suicide mission, man, going into the mines? After all this? We finally have a way out of here!”
And Ashley, who he usually always listened to — “I care about Josh too, even after everything, but Mike’s right. You can’t risk yourself just to save him! You already did it once!”
“And it failed,” Emily added, blunt, flat, and so painfully right.
He’d gone back to the shed to save Josh, and he had been too late. So he’d fought his way back, barely, blasting shot after shot at the Wendigo that had decapitated the Stranger and chased him down. He’d made it inside, handed them the key, and told them to go without him because there was no way in hell he could leave Josh behind.
“You went after Jess,” was all he said to Mike, when they’d finished shouting their disapproval at him.
That statement said more than he’d intended, drawn more comparison’s than he’d wanted to think about. Mike’s unsaid “But I love her,” hung in the air tangibly, and nobody called out to him in his wake.
And here he was. Stumbling, crawling, practically blind, making his way through the mines and failing to push the events of the night out of his head, to numb himself to the fear of the surrounding darkness.
His determination from before bled away into the shadows pressing in on him, seeping into the cold, still air and leaving him with nothing but the memory of his surety that he would find Josh, and he would save him. Faint whispers of his conviction that served to remind him how empty and hopeless he felt now.
The fear was taking so much out of him. His heightened awareness came at a great cost.
He felt his sanity draining away the longer he followed the dark paths deeper into the mine, felt more suffocated as every second passed. A disconcerting sensation ran through him, bubbling up inside him and very nearly boiling over — into laughter, or tears, he didn’t know — when he realised a tiny, irrational part of him almost wished the Wendigo would come back and end it.
End it, so at least he would be free from this state of terrified limbo, stuck between the paralysing conviction that certain death was approaching, and having to push himself forwards anyway.
The other, more insistent but equally as irrational part, told him that if he curled into a small ball, it would at least all go away for a little while.
Except sooner or later, the Wendigos would come, and the sound of their screeching would drive him insane.
As if on cue, the piercing cry of a Wendigo reached his ears, and he froze. It was far off, not close enough to be an immediate danger, but it left fear pulsing through him in sickening waves and his head pounding with the awareness that he was spending far too long down here. He knew pushing forward was his only real chance. At some point, he would have to turn back, for fear of losing himself down here. He’d lost track of time long ago — he’d barely kept track of where he was.
Barely kept track of who he was, a small part of his mind whispered, and Chris was desperately fighting his own urge to give up.
And then he’d emerged into a room with a pool of still, dark water, and the faint sound of Josh screaming.
His reaction was instantaneous. Josh’s name slipped from his lips without him being aware of it, an impossible mixture of relief and terror, because Josh was alive but Josh was screaming.
He ran forward, yanking his coat off and jumping into the water. He made a beeline around the flooded curve and towards the door, holding his coat above his head almost as an afterthought, ignorant to the loud sloshing noises he was causing and to the cold that immediately threatened to seep into what felt like his very bones.
Moments later, he reached the edge of the pool and hoisted himself out of it, not fast enough, not good enough. Josh was still shouting, words that echoed through the walls and carried to him, words that Chris could hear but couldn’t understand.
He grabbed the metal door, the urge to call out to him leaving a shout of his own bubbling up in his throat, but it died away the second he pulled the door open and a wave of water poured out, heads floating out with it. Images of the Stranger’s head hitting the ground with a wet smack danced in front of his vision and he turned away, squeezing his eyes shut before forcing them open again and turning back to face the open door.
Don’t look at the ground. Look for Josh. Look for Josh — he’s so close, so close, Jesus Christ why won’t he stop screaming—
In the several seconds it took for his eyes to adjust to the sight before him, the urge to run hit him twofold. He gave in, but instead of turning back the way he came he ran forward, past the hanging bodies, and to the wooden fence where he could hear Josh’s voice.
“No,” he was saying, and as Chris came into view he saw that he was facing away from him. “No more.”
There was nobody with him.
That was the first thing Chris noticed. No Wendigo, no people, not even any bodies. Just Josh, clutching the sides of his head and shrinking away from something Chris couldn’t see.
Slowly, suddenly hesitant despite the intense urgency that had been pushing him forwards since he’d emerged into the dark mines, Chris put his coat on and pushed open the small door he found further along in the fence. A small part of his mind took the time to be grateful that it didn’t creak because Josh was already making enough noise as it was, which led to Josh is alive it’s not too late, but that was quickly replaced with the slick uneasiness that although there was no Wendigo in sight, something was still terribly wrong.
Like this whole night wasn’t wrong.
“Josh,” he called out, his voice nearly failing him after his throat had been tight for so long.
Josh didn’t turn around, didn’t react except to lift his arms up and grasp for something. Chris couldn’t see what it was, squinted his eyes like maybe it was his shitty eyesight preventing him from seeing anything, but even then he saw nothing.
It took him several seconds to realise that there wasn’t anything there.
Crossing the distance between them suddenly seemed harder, made worse by the low wail Josh suddenly let out that left Chris frozen in place. But as he stood, watching him, the creaking of the chains holding the bodies swaying behind him became evident over Josh’s low moans, and the urgency set in once more.
He parted the relative safety of the fence to walk into the open of the cavern. He was suddenly aware of how small Josh looked standing alone, hunched over, his entire body trembling. It triggered something protective in him, seeing Josh so painfully vulnerable, and Chris’ hesitation vanished.
He took two quick strides forward and Josh spun towards him. Relief reared up for a short second, lingering tentatively within him, but just as quickly his heart plummeted through his stomach when Josh looked past him, straight through him, and continued turning until he was back the way he’d been facing.
And then sunk to his knees, his head lowering until he was staring down at the ground. Like Chris wasn’t even there.
“Josh,” he tried to say, but his voice failed him, and his mouth formed the word but no sound came out.
What’s wrong with him?
Josh’s head twitched towards him as Chris finally closed the distance between them. He opened his mouth to call out to him, but Josh didn’t look his way. Instead, he moaned something in quiet defeat, and Chris hesitated again when he registered what he’d said.
“Leave me alone.”
He waited, but Josh said nothing more, gave no other indication that he was even aware Chris was there. After a long, uncertain second, Chris reached out and put a tentative hand on his shoulder.
Before he had a chance to speak, Josh screamed, a short burst that sounded like it tore his vocal chords on the way out. Just as quickly, he was wrenching himself out of Chris’s loose grasp, hauling himself to his feet and spinning to face him.
Then they were face to face, and Chris couldn’t help the warmth that spread through him.
“Josh,” he managed, and for a few seconds, that was all he could manage — that single word, Josh’s name, but his voice wrapped around it like a caress and infused it with all the relief and happiness that swelled up in him.
For a second, he forgot where he was, forgot what he’d been through, what Josh had put them through, and the urge to wrap his arms around him and not let go hit Chris full force.
Because Josh was alive, standing in front of him, and in that moment nothing in the world seemed sweeter.
“You’re okay,” he managed, and his throat was tighter than it had been previously.
It took him several seconds too long to realise that Josh wasn’t responding.
He was staring up at him, brown eyes wide with surprise that was quickly fading into something else. As Chris watched, he opened his mouth to say something, but his entire face crumpled and all that came out was a soft noise that sounded like a wounded animal.
Chris felt confusion flood through him. “I- I heard you shouting,” he started, taking a step towards him, but he stopped short when Josh began backing away.
“No,” Josh whispered, “No, no, no.”
Chris froze. The back of his neck prickling, he looked over his shoulder, expecting to see a Wendigo crawling through the gap in the fence he’d left open behind him, saliva dripping from wicked teeth and milky eyes fixated solely on them. But when he turned, peering back the way he’d came with the sound of his pulse beginning to thunder in his veins, he saw nothing, just the gaping void of blackness that he knew they’d soon have to return through.
Slowly, he turned back around. Josh was still staring at him, his lips moving almost imperceptibly, mouthing words that Chris couldn’t hear. The uneasiness spiralled downwards, mixed with fear.
“Josh,” he said again, twisting the name into an almost question, echoing his uncertainty and confusion without needing to say anything else.
But Josh didn’t answer, instead tore his eyes away to stare at the ground, and as Chris watched he began to shake his head. Slowly, at first, but quicker, and his mantra of “No, no, no” began to pick up in volume.
That same gut wrenching feeling hit him, and there was nothing Chris could do to stop it.
“What’s going on, man?” he managed, forcing more strength into his words than he really felt, trying to keep the overwhelming emotions at bay. “What’s going on?” he repeated, and reached out a hand towards him.
Josh stared down at it before he suddenly snapped his eyes back up to him, and the look on his face was borderline terror.
“Not you,” he finally whispered, nearly inaudible. “Please, not you.”
Chris froze, the words echoing around in his mind. It took him several seconds to make himself move again, make himself close the distance between the two of them and lean in towards Josh.
“I— I don’t…” he tried, his voice wavering with uncertainty, trying to convince himself he hadn’t heard him right.
Josh flinched back. “Anybody but you,” he said, but it sounded like it was begging, and Chris couldn’t help the hurt that swelled up inside him, laced with the same toxic cocktail of fear and uncertainty that had haunted him since he’d stepped into the mines.
“What do you mean, not me?” he asked, because Josh was still looking at him, his wide eyes focusing on Chris and hinged with panicked desperation. “Josh,” Chris repeated, voice harder, and Josh ducked his head away from him, flinched back so violently that Chris was hit with a wave of guilt.
“I don’t understand,” he said, floundering, emotion infusing itself thickly into his words. “What do you mean not me? What’s going on? What’d- what’d I do?”
Why are you so scared of me?
Silence.
“Answer me, man!” he burst out, and was hit by the same guilt when Josh stared at him with wide eyes.
For a split second, he was hit by the urge to grab him, to take him by the shoulders and shake him and say you can’t look at me like that, you can’t do this to me, not after what you did— but the anger was quickly being overwhelmed by the hurt, and the hurt was easier to push down, to cover up with urgency and the possibility that they could deal with this when they were out of here.
So he looked away, forced it down, and nodded to the fence and the darkness behind him.
“We have to go,” he said simply, and he reached out to grab Josh by the arm. “You’re coming with me.”
“N-no,” Josh whispered, and pulled just out of reach.
The anger welled up and burst, and Chris clenched his fist, put it up to his mouth and bit down on his knuckle in frustration.
“I came back here for you,” he finally hissed, fixing his eyes on Josh in something quickly bordering on desperation. “I came back through the mines for you, made it past a Wendigo for you – I- I didn’t even know if you’d be here, but I still came back for you!”
He swallowed, hard, realised his voice echoed too loudly around the cavern. Fear crept back into him, cold fingers brushing down his spine, and something else was nudging at him, the sense of urgency that was always in the back of his mind.
He wanted to keep talking, wanted to ask what the hell was going on because this wasn’t what he’d expected, wasn’t what he’d wanted, wasn’t what he’d found his way through the mines for. But the noise that filled the sudden silence after his outburst was the sound of Josh whimpering, and the cold flood of guilt that swept through him made his heart drop.
“Josh,” he whispered, softly, apologetic and hesitant and so unsure. “I- I didn’t mean— I’m sorry, man,” he said weakly.
He didn’t expect any response, but Josh looked up at him abruptly, eyes widening. Chris stared back at him, thrown by the sudden change, but just as quickly the shock drained from Josh’s features and suspicion was left in its place, and a lingering look in his eyes that looked like hopelessness.
And then he spoke.
“Don’t p-play games with me,” he said, his voice soft but determined, “I know you’re just gunna hurt me.”
For a long time, Chris couldn’t say anything. Josh’s words ran around and around in his head, echoing, building on guilt and confusion and hurt because he’d come all the way back here for Josh, despite everything, and Josh was scared of him?
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he finally said, and it was all he could say, all he could do to try and get those words out past the chaos in his head.
Josh’s response was immediate, shaking his head so hard it must have hurt and raising his voice to shout so loud that Chris winced away from him.
“D-don’t play games,” he shouted, lifting both his hands to the sides of his head. “Don’t! S-stop messing with me! Stop it!”
“Josh!” Chris reached out for him, tried to quiet him down, but he only made it worse.
Josh withdrew, squeezing his eyes shut and backing away, and the next set of shouts that tore through him were louder, more demanding, like he believed if he shouted loud enough the force of it would make Chris disappear.
Chris was flooded with panic, several realisations sinking in all at once, and with them, the terrifying awareness of how loud Josh was being and just how far it carried.
Josh was delusional.
Chris knew that, had known it when he’d helped tie him up, and yet somehow, it hadn’t really sunk in.
Delusional, hallucinating, shouting at shadows and ghosts and seeing something Chris couldn’t.
It hadn’t been this bad before, it couldn’t have been, before this he was at least coherent but—
All the excuses in the world didn’t make him feel any less like he wanted to puke. This was his fault, and he couldn’t undo the damage he’d helped cause. All he could do was try and get him out of here, but his chances of getting them both out of there had diminished significantly, and were getting lower by the second.
If he didn’t quiet Josh down, now, then they were both going to die.
But Josh was still shouting at the top of his lungs, tearing his already damaged vocal chords even further. It almost seemed distant to him, and Chris wondered if his own shock was starting to catch up.
In a way, it was, but the longer he stared at Josh with his eyes still squeezed tightly shut and his violently shaking hands now covering his ears, the more the noise returned, the more reality came flooding back until he was back, standing in the middle of the freezing cave, with Josh’s shouts echoing endlessly around him.
Chris was frozen with indecision. He couldn’t try and talk Josh down from this, couldn’t try and get through to him with his hands covering his ears, but he didn’t know what else to do.
He lunged forward, grabbed Josh’s hands and yanked them away.
Josh’s shouts quickly turned to fear, and he panicked, kicking out and trying to free himself from Chris’ grip. He quickly found his mouth covered, and that sent another spike of panic through him, and a second later he was released and he opened his eyes to the sight of Chris stumbling away from him, staring down at his palm in horror.
Josh bared his now bloody teeth. “I knew you’d try to hurt me,” he said, and he laughed, but it came out manic, loud and tinted with derangement. Chris wheeled back, and Josh’s mouth snapped shut with an audible clack of his teeth.
“Holy shit,” Chris whispered, and he stared at Josh in dawning horror.
Josh’s eyes were wide, unhinged. “You c-can’t resist,” he told him, like he was sharing a secret. “Y-you hate me for what I did but I just wanted to help you, you didn’t play any part in what happened to- to my sisters... you were meant to be the hero!”
Chris shook his head. “I-”
“You’d get the girl, save the day - famous! Unlike the, the others, except Sam, b-because they all did wrong and I wanted to show them. P-pranks aren’t so funny when they’re-”
“Josh...”
“But you,” Josh said, suddenly changing tangents, and his tone had shifted, everything had shifted, and he stared at Chris as if imploring him to understand, “I was trying to help you.”
Chris knew. He knew, deep down, that Josh was telling the truth. Could almost see his idea behind it, although he couldn’t truly fathom it, couldn’t comprehend the logic of Josh’s delusions even though now it sounded like Josh was begging him to.
Chris wanted to tell him he’d never wanted any of this. Wanted to say he cared about Ashley but if he’d wanted, he would have made his move. Wanted to say he never wanted to be famous, never cared about being a hero. Wanted Josh to see what had really been going on.
But it was useless, and for a few seconds the sadness that ran through him drowned out everything else.
Then he shook his head, opened his mouth to speak, but the words got jammed somewhere in his throat, somewhere between I’m so sorry and I’m real I swear to you and I’m going to get you out of here and in the end, nothing came out.
He’d come all this way to save him, but he looked at Josh, into his bloodshot, pleading eyes, his trembling lips, at the distance between the reality he was in and the one he was seeing, and he realised he wasn’t sure if he could save him after all.