23
It’s like moving underwater. Thegravel crunches like tiny shards of glass under my feet, but the air is thick, dense, a steamy fog coating the earth. We weave our way down the driveway, between the cars slick with condensation, feeling our way until we reach the end, where the gravel gives way to smooth pavement. Our cars are lined up neatly like they should be—all except for Ryan’s. I shouldn’t have questioned Kennedy. If she said he left, he either left or wanted her to think he did. But if hedidfake a goodbye and stick around without telling even me, he had to have a very good reason. And I intend to find out why.
By now the fog has become so thick it’s hard to breathe, and it’s growing heavier by the minute. We need to cross the street before beginning the hike up the steep path through the trees to the cell spot. It’s a pretty rocky climb at times, and it can be tricky in slick conditions. It will be incredibly dangerous in the fog. The air hangs heavily on my skin, and the sensation that something large and dark and shapeless is going to emerge out of the fog and pounce on me is so palpable, every muscle in my body is tensed.
Chase and I link arms at the edge of the street. “Ready?” He peers out into the darkness.
“As ever.” We walk slowly and carefully, and I try not to let every horror movie I’ve ever seen play out in my mind. Only the expendables leave the cabin in the woods. The ones who didn’t bother to read the script. “It’s a good thing we never hooked up.”
He laughs uncomfortably. “You’re doing it again. Thought hopping. Help me out.”
“Because like, in a horror movie, we’d be so dead right now.”
He lets out a burst of laughter. “Touché. Thank god for the chastity of our friendship.”
“Or lack of active serial killers in the area,” I can’t help adding.
He winces as we reach the start of the trail and step into the darkness of the forest. “Did you have to add that?”
“I was thinking it.” I don’t like this fog. It reminds me of water, the feeling of big things with sharp jaws circling unseen. “Kennedy said she doesn’t think that’s it, though. I mean, she doesn’t think a random person hurt Emily or wants to mess with us.”
Chase climbs silently for a bit. “That makes sense.”
“I think so too. Why would a random person single us out? Wait so long in between attacks? It doesn’t feel right. Whatever is happening right now is personal. Someone knows how to turn us against each other.” We reach a steep rocky portion, and Chase nods for me to go first.
“I’ll spot you.”
I look around nervously for a foothold, beginning to second-guess my plan. I think Miladidhead for the cell spot,and there’s a chance Ryan is out here too. But both of them are seasoned athletes, and I’m not. I boost myself up and begin to climb. I don’t talk, focusing on reaching the next flat spot in the trail. The surface is slick and muddy, and the fog is so thick at this level, I can’t see above and I can’t see below. But my hands eventually reach dirt, and I pull myself up and collapse onto the ground, my chest heaving in relief.
Chase easily joins me and stands and stretches, gazing up at the moon. The fog is thinner at this height. I wonder if we’ve clawed our way above the clouds. “Happy anniversary,” he says suddenly, with a dark laugh.
I pull myself to my feet slowly. “That’s not funny.”
“It had to have been around now, right? Give or take an hour?” He raises an invisible glass. “To the moment all of our lives were spectacularly destroyed.”
“How can you say that? Emily died. We’re still here.” My voice is swallowed up by the fog. It feels like cotton in my ears, dulling even Chase’s voice to a soft, muted sound.
He speaks in cloudy wisps. “Yeah. We are. But we’re not okay. You spent the year in a hospital, Chelsea. A year. That’s extreme. Kennedy obviously went through some kind of psychological trauma, and Mila took more than her fair share of the blame. We need to find a way to make things right and move on with our lives. That’s why I came back.” He shrugs helplessly. “I don’t think any of us can do another lap of last year. We all suffered.”
“Not all of us suffered in Rome.” I can’t help it slipping out.
“Fair enough.” His classic smile reappears, but something is a little off. It’s creepy.
“They run out of pizza or something?” I try to resent him, but it’s useless. Chase is the kind of guy who can spend a gap year in Europe, floating in a haze of hookah bars, sipping craft beers, and living on a steady diet of gourmet cheese and freshly baked bread, and the worst you can do is wish you were there with him. Even when he acts like it’s some kind of chore.
He tightens his jaw and slows as his eyes search through the thin velvet mist. “I wouldn’t know. I didn’t leave my room.” I try to imagine being whisked to a villa overlooking sparkling fountains and cobblestone streets. Designer shops and unbelievable food and buildings built on the ashes of a city that burned to dust.
After a brief moment of silence he darts a look at me. “My father would never risk a scandal, so there was no question of me sticking around. But every time I closed my eyes, I was back here in the burning house surrounded by everyone I let down.”
“You never let me down,” I say.
“Of course I did, Chelsea.” Chase looks at me with an expression that makes my stomach feel tight. His confident aura rarely wavers, but tonight it’s been flickering like a candle. “None of this would be happening if I’d been a little faster. Or smarter. I’m supposed to be so fucking smart. And I couldn’t figure out how to save a friend. And now I find outRyanwent back for Mila? The only time it mattered one bit, my brain decided to sit it out.” He pauses. “I failed. I deserve every last bit of the blame.” He stumbles and almost pulls me over with him, but we both right ourselves and keep going. The night is cloaked in silence, stillness. I wish we could just turn around. As much as I dread the house and whatever is within, I dread that somethingfollowing me into the darkness even more. A house has walls and doors and locks. Out here we are helpless. I see nothing, hear nothing, but Chase, but I feel thatitsees me.
It might not be Emily that’s been speaking to me all this time. Because it doesn’t feel like Emily now. It feels monstrous, as big as the lake and as silent as the fog, as angry as the fire and as corporeal as the house. It feels everywhere, inescapable, and suddenly I want to go back to the hospital, to the place I hated, because everything was so certain there. Half hours of certainty, menus of reliability, pills of predictability. I want the last thing I remember that was predictable and sure. It wasn’t good there. I was so glad to leave. But it didn’t ruin my life.
“Stop.” I look around uneasily. “I have no idea where we are.”
“The path only goes one place,” he says, his confidence returning a little.