Work Text:
The events of the last few minutes had all been more of a blur for Chris, with only the occasional moments of blinding clarity and razor-sharp focus. One moment Ash’s body had been warm under his arm, helping to support his weight as the two of them and Em slowly trekked through the tunnels beneath the lodge. The next, the pain in his ankle forgotten as the three of them ran down the long halls and up the stairs, three Wendigos hot on their heels, and pushing past Sam and Mike.
His focus sharpened at the sight of a fourth Wendigo balancing on the hanging sculpture in the main room, and he had frozen just before the door leading outside. He could hear the thunderous sounds of four sets of feet as everyone else clamoured up the stairs, before they too froze. And then the three Wendigos that had been chasing them made their appearance too.
And then a blur as Sam yelled and Mike moved, the larger, newer Wendigo ripping off the head of one of the ones that had been chasing him, and Chris took the chance to run outside. The cold air was biting on his face and he stumbled, falling to the snow and his hands burning at the sudden sensation of cold. Chris turns back to the lodge, desperate for someone, anyone, to make an appearance in the open doorway.
The blur remains as he watched Emily rush out, and that’s one of them at least, but he can’t help the fear pooling like ice in his veins at the sight. Ash had been right behind him, hadn’t she? So where was she? A million images pass through his mind in a second. Of her being torn apart by one of the things inside, of two of them ripping her in half lengthwise, of deadly sharp claws digging into her face, and he puts his hands on his knees to brace himself, desperately trying not to throw up at the images.
His eyes never leave the door though.
Seconds later, though it felt like hours despite the blur in his head, Ash too lunges out the door, and the sharpness returns. Her hair is vibrant red against the green of his sweater, and she’s so alive that he nearly cries out in immense relief at the sight. She pauses only for a moment as she runs, her eyes catching him standing not far off, and she changes course to collide straight into his arms, her arms wrapping like a vise around his waist as she nearly bowls the both of them over into the snow again.
Chris returns the embrace with everything in him, tired as he is, and he knows that despite the possessiveness of the hug, that both of their eyes aren’t looking at each other, but at the lodge. Eyes desperate for the last of their group to emerge from the darkness there, but limbs still shaky with adrenaline even as they refused to move. Just in case.
Mike is the next to emerge, tripping over the doorway and nearly falling ass over tea kettle is the process, but alive and looking over his shoulder as Sam thankfully follows, not far behind him. Then, suddenly and without warning, the lodge explodes behind her.
The force of the explosion is what finally sends Chris and Ash down into the snow beneath them, and Chris is amazed that he still somehow has the presence of mind to turn them over. He is then pressing her into the snow, his back to the burning maelstrom that was once the lodge as she presses her face into his chest, and shards of broken glass and pieces of burning wood fall around them.
Seconds later, she is looking up at him with wide eyes, and is giving him a deep, desperate kiss that he is helpless but to return, when there’s a scream behind them. They separate and he’s trying to help Ash to her feet, when there’s another scream, this one louder and more frantic and filled with horror, and for the life of him, Chris can’t tell whether it’s Em or Sam.
He turns to see Sam lying feet from where she had been when the lodge exploded, unmoving and the white snow now speckled red and black around her.
The blur returns as he stumbles to where she is laying scarily still with Em already at her side, Mike groaning nearby as he slowly stands up, his arm hanging loosely from his shoulder, and freezes when he looks down at her in abject horror. Chris understands why when he gets closer. Her back is a mess of burns and melted fabric, and her blonde hair singed to almost her scalp. He blinks, and then he’s next to her on his knees, frantically grabbing at snow and piling it onto her back as Em and Ash help, and Mike tries to do what he can one-handed, and that hand two fingers short. There’s a sob muffled in the snow, and Chris can’t help the relief he feels to know that while she’s not okay by any stretch of the imagination (though are any them?), she’s still alive.
The heat of the flames from the lodge is sweltering at his back, and it’s at odds with his hands, red and sore with cold, as he piles handfuls of snow after snow onto her. Turning her back into a kaleidoscope of reds and blacks, of pinks and whites.
Another blink, and there’s a deep whirling sound above them that reverberates through Chris’s bones. Em next to him shouts in joy and he pauses with his shoveling to stare up at the quickly approaching sight of the helicopter above him. He watches Em stand up and run to where the copter is setting down, but continues with Mike and Ash in burying Sam in snow.
A new blink, and Sam is loaded face down onto a stretcher, a foil blanket covering her back as they load her into the helicopter, and one of the guys is in the process of trying to fix Mike’s dislocated shoulder. Chris realizes that he can’t feel his hand, and looks down to see that Ash had grabbed it in both of hers and was clutching so tight that, despite being pink from the cold only moments before, both their fingers are now bone-white. He shudders at the color, but does not try to extract his hand.
Blink, and the guy that was helping Mike is now talking to them, or at least to Ashley because Chris can’t make out a word they're saying with all the frantic buzzing going on in his head right now. They are led to the copter, and the person tries to separate Ash from him—or him from Ash—and they both start yelling and gripping the other tighter until they are finally allowed to sit together. Hands still clenched so tight that they may as well be a single unit at this point.
A final blink, and the copter is taking off into the sky, leaving the flames still burning at the misshapen silhouette of lodge below them. He looks around the cabin of the vehicle, at Sam lying belted stomach down to the stretcher with the occasional muffled whine or sob of pain. At Emily staring daggers at Mike, and him and Ash, before placing her head into her hands. At Mike, who is just staring blankly at the lodge and at his mangled hand. At Ash, who has buried her face into the side of his shoulder and quietly crying there. The world comes into focus at a jarring realization.
He doesn’t see Josh anywhere.