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All things considered, it isn't a shock that the butterfly chooses Ashley.
None of them are as jumpy. Superstitious. Scared of their shadows. None of them think like Ashley.
(None of them made it, either, so she supposes it just had to make do with her.)
It's her fault.
Chris dying. Emily dying. Sam dying, Mike dying. It's all her fault, no doubt about it. No shot in hell to deny the result, either; it all boils down to her stupid nerves. One frenetic twitch ruined everything—she was just trying to get out of the lodge! Quietly, quickly, safely. That was the plan. Mike and Sam shared a look, and some observation of the two of them allowed Ashley to understand the truth: they were going to blow up the place and every wendigo in it.
It happened like this—Ashley's opportunity to reach safety caught the attention of the wendigos. Chris moved, presumably to protect her. The monsters swarmed. Mike opened the lighter. The bulb's exposed wiring, coupled with the gas leak, caused an explosion. Ashley was in the doorjamb, the furthest from danger. Blown backwards, she survived by sheer luck. Sam, Mike, and Emily went up with the lodge. Chris, second closest to the exit, died slowly, flames consuming every bit of him they could reach. Ashley can't get the image out of her brain.
(Oh, she's tried.)
Ashley's picked up by a helicopter and hailed as the sole survivor. Soon after, Jessica, Matt, and Josh's bodies are recovered from the outskirts of the mines.
"I...I can't b-believe Chris is gone," Ashley chokes out, shaking all over. The interviewers are blurry, monochrome shapes to her. She can't stop crying. She tells them Chris is her best friend. Was. Was her best friend. The cops don't write down much else—they aren't sure how she heard Jessica when Jessica's TOD was much earlier. They grimace when she mentions the wendigos, and Josh, features carefully blank.
They don't believe her. One of them suggests the stress of traumatic event is influencing her story, as if Ashley isn't in the room. That sounds like a great idea.
"Can I get some air? Please."
She finds refuge on a bench outside the station. No one wants to linger in this cold, but after a night like Ashley's, it's a welcome escape.
She plays with her phone for a few minutes to burn off a combination of restless energy and weighty exhaustion, before a thought hits her as hard as Emily did just a few hours ago—who is she going to call, exactly? Her parents are on the way to Alberta and out of their minds with worry, but almost everyone she's spoken to on a daily basis is now dead. There won't be any more study sessions with Chris, movie nights with Sam, random shopping trips with Jessica and Emily, one off conversation between classes with Mike, ping pong competitions with Matt, or Snapchat competitions with Josh.
A breeze picks up, the sun sparkles, and it seems like the rest of the world will move on from this. Ashley isn't sure how she will, nor if she even wants to. Ashley drags her sleeve across her eyes, inhaling a shuddering breath. Not all cried out yet, apparently.
Another gust of wind makes Ashley consider going back inside, but in the interim of deciding this, a butterfly lands on her knee.
It's a beautiful thing—wings a stunning blue and accented with black stripes. It even lets Ashley pick it up with trembling, bloodstained fingers, fluttering gently, almost soothingly. Just holding it in her palms makes Ashley calmer, somehow, until she feels more drowsy and relaxed than scared and sad. Later, she'll suspect it's to cushion the surprise of the ingress of an unfamiliar voice sneaking into her head.
The smallest decision can dramatically change the future, it tells her. A telepathic butterfly, Ashley muses, tempted to laugh about it and every single part of last night until she turns blue in the face and passes out. The annual winter getaway has really ramped up her beliefs in the supernatural (to her detriment, she concludes). Fortunately, the butterfly ignores her in a reassuring, Sam sort of way.
Are you Sam? Ashley wonders pleadingly, hopefully.
Your actions will shape how the story unfolds, it continues as if she hadn't interrupted, wings afloat in a mesmerizing pattern. Ashley is transfixed, despite herself. A tiny butterfly flapping its wings today may lead to a devastating hurricane weeks from now...
Your story is one of many possibilities, the butterfly urges. Choose your actions carefully.
Ashley is reading way too much into this. She's got to be imagining it—butterflies don't thrive in cold climates, and they don't (usually) go around and strike up psionic conversations. Maybe the cop in the ranger station is right. She's processing extreme stress with a fantasy.
She saw a wendigo, though. One with Hannah's distinctive tattoo. She saw things that should not exist in this world. As it turns out, they do—Ashley's world was just too small at the time, even with her fear and faith in the unknown. She saw enough yesterday to last her lifetime, but it will be a lifetime without her friends if she doesn't do something. As quickly as she understood Mike's plan, Ashley understands now.
Will you choose?
With nothing left to lose, Ashley acquiesces.
"Let's party like we're fucking porn stars, okay? And make this one a trip we will never forget, alright? Yes!"
Ashley jolts. Where am I? She panics, phone in one hand and the other gripping on her seat. The cable car. She's on the cable car, going up the mountain, not down. What's going on? What just happened?
"You okay, Ash?"
"Josh," she blurts out stupidly. He gives a funny look, jostled slightly by their ride.
"Still with me?" He asks, giving her a grin. "You look like you've seen a ghost, or something."
"Totally something," Ashley laughs nervously. She releases the death grip she has on her phone to close the video Josh sent them all to check the time. 7:30PM. She stifles a gasp. That butterfly wasn't her mind playing tricks on her—she actually went backwards a day.
Josh is still looking at her. It's unnerving—in just a handful of hours, he'll vanish and put on that scary costume. Ashley needs another minute to process everything. Ten minutes, twenty minutes.
"I'm-I'm afraid of heights," Ashley fibs, wringing her hands and hoping the tics her friends are used to will conceal the lie. Josh's expression clears. He leans over across the car, extending a hand to her. Ashley has a sudden urge to be sick. Sometime tonight, Ashley will lose it and stab Josh—the Killer, the Psycho—with a pair of scissors. Maybe not this time, she resolves, struggling to seem as normal as she was yesterday, devoid of the knowledge she has now. Ashley grabs Josh's hand out of instinct and squeezes tightly.
"You can do this, Ash. It's only a little longer, see? Then we'll see Cochise and get you two snuggled up by the fire. Yeah? Sound good?"
Chris! Chris is alive. Ashley's discomfort dwindles, even as Josh waggles his eyebrows, implying stuff. "Yeah," she says, managing one quavering smile, struck with the dizzying thought of seeing her friends—even Josh, after everything he did—together again. The night can be different, she realizes, remembering the butterfly's message. She has to play this right. She can't mess up.
"Can't wait," Ashley adds, with more enthusiasm this time. Josh gives her a thumbs up.
Josh goes ahead to put their stuff outside the lodge. Ashley hangs back, remembering her place at this point. She was scanning the vicinity with the telescope and then...
Mike and Emily. That's right! She saw them hugging and blurring the line between exes and currents. Which meant it's Matt's cue to—
"Aahh!"
He'd kidding, she knows, but Ashley's survived a night of hell to make even the phoniest of screams set her off. She's more aggressive this time around as he jogs up the stairs to the observing area, fighting to keep her cool.
"Jeez, Matt," she snaps, forgetting the oh my goshes and playful punches until Matt is looking genuinely sorry instead of amused and chastened. Her anger contrasts the teasing scare from last night, changing the atmosphere. It's awkward, she realizes, striving to recreate what she just messed up.
"It's okay. Fine, yeah, whatever," she tacks on hurriedly, softening her tone. It placates Matt a little.
"What are you looking at?" He questions, changing the subject. That winning smile of his returns. "See anything juicy with that thing?"
Just cheating. The new decision doesn't register with Ashley fast enough. The options to distract Matt or tell him the truth like she did yesterday disappear. Matt's already moving past her, and then sees the couple below.
"Son of a bitch..." Matt fumes. Ashley follows after he storms off, their steps heavy and unwieldy in the snow.
Mount Washington: 1.
Ashley: 0.
Ashley and Matt meet up with Josh. It's ten o'clock. Almost everybody has arrived, with Chris and Sam as the odd ones out.
She hears the sounds of Chris and Sam's approach. The anticipation is too great. Ashley abandons her perch and finds them quicker.
"Chris!" Ashley breathes, bounding over to give him a hug. Another diversion from script, more significant. Chris is blushing (!) when Ashley pulls away. Sam is smirking.
"Where's my hug, Ash?" She asks innocently. Ashley's face burns, but she gives one to Sam anyway, getting goosebumps when Sam whispers something that sounds like good luck. None of them know exactly how much luck Ashley truly needs, how much has happened, how much will happen. She envies them—being the one to know that all or some of the group will be dead in a matter of hours is a heavy burden to bear. Ashley draws back, smile uneasy.
"Just checking if you guys are warm enough," she explains awkwardly. "We're pretty vulnerable to hypothermia. Heh..."
Sam's amusement peters out, replaced by the very beginnings of concern. She's always been able to read Ashley like a book. As such, Ashley plans to be more cognizant of her for the foreseeable future. Chris is Chris, meanwhile—he just smiles at her, sweet as ever.
"She's right," Josh calls out from the lodge door, startling Ashley. "Cochise, we gotta get these babes inside before our junk falls off."
Sam rolls her eyes at Ashley in disgust; Chris meanders over to Josh to do his part of getting the door open. Matt's still a ways off, unwittingly giving Sam and Ashley some privacy to talk. It's new territory for the evening, but not outside the realm of Ashley's experience. She and Sam are friends (good friends), after all—they've hung out plenty of times before tonight. One little conversation won't offset the night's new progress, Ashley rationalizes. She can't sweat the small stuff, not when bigger problems are on the way.
"You don't look so hot," Sam murmurs, putting a sympathetic hand on Ashley's arm. "Are you feeling all right?"
No, Ashley thinks. She's a shadow of the other, oblivious Ashley. She has to get a grip, especially with the rest of the night ahead of her.
"Cold, that's all," she says, offering Sam a self deprecating grin to conceal the jitters. "I forgot my parka."
Sam buys it. Phew. "I think we all did," Sam replies, smiling. "We just need a few hours around the fire and we'll be good as new."
"We should make s'mores," Ashley proposes, praying her influence on events will alter the end. If none of them go outside, maybe Hannah and the other wendigos will stay away...
Sam loves the idea. Ashley lets herself breathe easier. Take that, cursed mountain.
Everyone gets into the lodge, and Ashley quickly realizes she has to juggle two glaring issues.
Jessica and Emily start arguing. Josh will send Jessica and Mike away any minute now. By the early morning, Jessica will be dead.
"Hey," she pipes up, drawing away from the sidelines, where she stood as a bystander with Sam last time. Her interruption doesn't come with a newfound sense of bravery; frankly, Jessica and Emily are terrifying when they're angry, and being on the receiving end of both of their fury comes pretty close to standing down a screaming wendigo. "Maybe, maybe...you shouldn't fight?" It sounds just as stupid to her as it does to them. She winces, mortified.
Chris and Sam exchange looks of uncertainty. Mike watches, intrigued. Josh barely looks at anyone, too busy tending to the nonexistent fire. Matt is weary and wary, unwilling to intervene. Ashley shifts her weight from foot to foot, apprehensive. No one is quite sure what to do, now; Ashley has been known to avoid conflict.
"You shouldn't speak unless spoken to," Emily drawls after an unpleasant silence. The energy in the room returns, sparked like a flame.
"Totally!" Jessica scoffs, flicking one braid before going back to snuggling with Mike. (Ashley's ego is wounded, but she'll survive.)
Second problem—Mike and Jessica don't leave the lodge. Good, a part of Ashley cheers, though it puts a screw in Josh's prank plans. Also good, but it makes Ashley fear what horrors he'll commit instead. Well, what if she doesn't have to? What if she can skip that part?
Ashley skirts over to Josh under the guise of helping start the fire. She grabs his arm, earning a surprised look.
"Trying to make Cochise jealous?" He asks in a stage whisper. She's taken aback by the boldness, until the degree of dismay in Josh's eyes becomes clear. Rearranging the night puts pressure on him to regroup. Good luck, she thinks, initial boldness withering to compassion.
"I know what you're doing," she says very softly. "Tonight. The prank. I know, Josh." She understands...dimly, that the prank is to avenge Hannah and Beth—it's meant to punish everyone involved. Jessica, for the idea. Emily, for the reason. Mike, for the eager participation. Matt and Ashley as onlookers, who went along without complaint. Only Chris and Sam remained outside the guilty circle, but Ashley knows Chris has a few deadly choices ahead of him. Awful choices. If Josh's goal is to hurt Chris as much as the twins were before they died, it will work.
That doesn't mean Ashley can't stop it. She'll stifle any desire of Josh's to hurt them if she says the right thing. What he needs to hear.
His reaction is a mess; anger, embarrassment, regret, and shame flit over his features in seconds. He seems to settle for irritation.
"You don't know jack shit," Josh retorts, face flushed. No one has heard yet—the argument is a quiet battle between her and Josh.
"Josh, please. Listen to me," Ashley urges, even as he shakes off her hand. This is reckless, but she can't bring herself to care at the moment. Getting through to Josh will cut out the middleman of the night. If everyone stays together, things will be different no matter what. "The prank gets out of control. You're going to hurt somebody. Please, just...don't go through with it."
Josh's gaze is empty even as he looks her straight in the eye. Ashley realizes, then, that she is in over her head. "You don't tell me what to do," Josh hisses. He turns his back on her, effectively ending the conversation.
Desperate times, desperate measures. Ashley jumps to her feet, stamping out her instinct not to draw attention, to cower in tough times.
"Josh is going to prank us," she announces, voice loud and rattled and careless. She feels like she's facing the crest of a tsunami wave, making no move to get to safety. "He's going to dress up like a killer and put me and Chris in a Jigsaw trap. And he's-he's gonna knock Sam out and tie her up," Ashley continues, words spilling out in a rush. She isn't incomprehensible, though; the room understands, and fast.
"What the fuck?" Mike snarls, standing up. Jessica follows, as if getting closer will make her believe everything she just heard.
"You're going do what to me?" Sam asks in disbelief, putting hands on her hips. Chris is silent, a disappointed specter to the scene. Emily and Matt look shocked and revolted, each at a loss for words (knowing Emily, a lack of words is alarming). Josh, to his credit, rolls with it.
"Why else would I invite all of you up here?" He questions, brushing past Ashley without another look. The warm, considerate character of Josh Washington—the one Ashley has known since before Hannah and Beth vanished, the one who tentatively reappeared in the interim year despite his grief—fades into a slick, unrepentant facade. The shift makes Ashley queasy. "All of you are the reason my sisters are gone!"
The sudden upswing in Josh's tone is unexpected. He's shouting now. Ashley melts back against the fireplace, spooked.
"If you hadn't gone through with your stupid prank last year, my sisters would still be alive!"
"Josh," Chris admonishes, speaking for the first time. "That isn't fair."
"Fair?" Josh demands. "What part of this is supposed to be fucking fair? My sisters are dead. How is that fair, Chris?"
"It was an accident," Ashley gets out, aghast. How could he possibly think... "We didn't mean—"
"No one wanted Hannah and Beth to die, Josh," Matt interrupts. He's soothing, the voice of reason. "You can't pin that on us."
"I'll do whatever I want," Josh bites out, storming past Matt and yanking open the door. Outside, Ashley realizes, terrified.
"Josh, wait! Don't go. It's too dangerous," Ashley pleads. The wind—or wendigo—howls, but no one is properly scared. They don't know yet.
The look he gives the group is absolutely venomous. "I'd rather freeze," he says curtly, and leaves.
No one goes after him, not even Chris. Ashley sinks down to sit on the fireplace. She can't go—Hannah is outside. Hunting. Josh will face her alone, and it's all Ashley's fault. Again.
The rest of night goes poorly. Mike gets a fire going, but it's weak, and Josh's tricks in the locked basement ensure nobody warms up. After an extended round of silence and muttered arguments between one another, Chris decides to go find Josh, and politely ignores Ashley's warnings. Ashley can't bring herself to explain what's outside, despite the danger. They believed her about the prank, but a 'fictional' creature is another thing entirely, not without proof. Even with the proof, she recalls skepticism, even on her part (however briefly).
At one-thirty, Ashley is restless. Flamethrower Guy has not appeared, nor have Josh or Chris come back. She gets her answer on their whereabouts by two o'clock in the morning. The Stranger hasn't rescued anyone. Ashley knows this because he's beheaded just outside the door, where Ashley is waiting for Chris. Then, Hannah crashes through the glass and the wood, claws soaring right for Ashley's throat.
The last thing Ashley sees before she loses all feeling in her body is the butterfly, nestled safely in the rafters. Everyone around her is screaming, running, but Hannah is nothing if not persistent—she incapacitates each and every person in the room, and begins to feed.
Will you choose? The butterfly questions.
"Yes," Ashley gurgles aloud, blood draining out of her throat. The room is fuzzy—she's losing consciousness. Help won't come until dawn, she and her friends are dead and dying, and this is her only chance to fix it. Yes, she thinks, coherence lost. Yes, yes, I choose.
"Let's party like we're fucking porn stars, okay? And make this one a trip we will never forget, alright? Yes!"
Ashley jolts. It takes her a minute to gain her bearings. She's back in the cable car with Josh. He's looking at her, curious.
"You okay, Ash?"
"Me? Oh, yeah," she says, faking a laugh. It's a lot—the butterfly saved her, and rewound the day a second time. Her decisions jumpstarted Hannah's attack. Ashley has to act differently. Better, smarter. "I was just thinking of...all the scary stories Chris is gonna tell us."
Josh snickers. "He doesn't know any. Trust me, I'll freak everybody out properly, don't you worry." Oh, I know.
Ashley gives him an uncomfortable smile, but perseveres. "With your prank?" She queries, as sternly as she dares. Josh's expression flickers.
"Sure," he answers easily. "Cochise has a couple scares ahead of him." The recovery angers Ashley faster than she has ever been angry before—what will make him get that this is a bad idea?
"Until I tell him ahead of time," she retorts, all false bravado. Josh's features look fixed, like plastic. He smiles, emptier than ever.
"Good luck with that, Ash." He laughs, sending shivers up her spine.
Ashley tries to reveal it all again. The group reacts more or less the same, though they are quicker to indignation and the siding with Ashley due to Josh speaking rudely to her all the way from the cable car to the lodge's living room, enough to provoke questions. He retreats upstairs after the seven-on-one shouting match, Chris at his heels. Ashley flutters about restlessly, unsure of what to do next. She tries calling the rangers as a preemptive strike, but she has no service. Damn it.
Attracted by the noise, Hannah crashes through the window. She tears through Sam and Mike like rice paper, sends Matt crashing through a pillar, drags Emily to her death by the throat, and quiets a shrieking Jessica with a swipe of her claws. Ashley stands as still as a statue, but gains Hannah's attention at the same time Josh and Chris come back.
"Don't move!" She yells. Shortsighted on her own safety, Ashley is eviscerated by Hannah.
"Ashley!" Chris howls.
Immobile in a puddle of her own blood and gore, Ashley's eyes roll back into her head, catching another glimpse of the butterfly in the rafters.
Will you choose? The butterfly questions, ever polite.
Ashley can't nod or gasp out an answer, but she responds in silent appeal, closing her eyes as Hannah approaches, teeth dripping with red.
Yes, I choose.
Ashley decides, after the second round of dying, she has to let the prank occur. Her actions aren't as careful as the butterfly seems to want. Either she dies first, or Josh does, followed almost instantaneously by everyone else. She can't fight this sequence fate has put her in, but she can work with it. Guide it along. The butterfly is reviving her whenever she screws up anyway—it's like the universe's fucked up manner of letting Ashley know she's made a mistake. She has to let certain things happen, or no one will make it past the night, including her. Not eager to relive the same grisly death a third time, Ashley maintains her composure and makes amicable conversation with Josh.
It isn't easy, but she manages. Like Sam, Ashley knows Josh. They're friends, obviously. Small talk is welcome and appreciated, with a joke or two to make the ride up smooth and normal, like it was yesterday, when no one knew what waiting for them.
The third time, she watches Matt and Mike squabble, followed by the argument between Emily and Jessica. Ashley does, however, try to slow down Jessica and Mike from going, once the girls have been interrupted by Josh.
"It's pretty cold outside," Ashley tells Mike. "You guys should go to one of the guest bedrooms instead. Heh...bro."
Ashley's fluency in the language of dude isn't quite up to snuff. Mike looks like he's hiding laughter. He taps her under the chin, more amused than flirtatious. "Thanks for the tip, Ashley, but we'll be fine on her own."
"Is Ashley coming with us?" Jessica pipes up, wandering over to investigate. Mike is thunderstruck; Ashley is bright red. Jessica's beaming.
With a group of friends this large, it isn't like Ashley hasn't thought about all of them in various ways before...but she's actually super interested in Chris. If Ashley prods a little deeper (alternatively, gives in to the panic the night will inevitably bring), it's safe to say she's in love with Chris. Tagging along to the guest cabin would be awesome but it would definitely put her and Chris off track—possibly forever.
"Thanks, but I'm gonna stick around," Ashley squeaks, wishing she could pull her beanie over her entire body and evaporate, right then and there. Jessica blows her a kiss on the way out, suggesting Ashley follow if she changes her mind.
(In another universe, Ashley is so tapping that. Nope, still not fluent, she concludes, praying the butterfly doesn't hear her thoughts.)
With Mike and Jessica gone, the group reverts back to script of the first night. Sam and Josh go to the basement to turn on the water, Chris goes to get the Ouija board and find the monk costume, Ashley starts working on the fire, while Matt and Emily set out down the trail to find her bag. Ashley would worry about them, but she remembers running straight into the pair after Chris got her out of the Saw trap.
"What in god's name are you wearing?" Ashley groans when the trio returns. Chris mimes blessing her with the sign of the cross.
"I have found my true calling."
"Please tell me you've decided to talk a vow of silence."
Chris gesticulates, making Ashley laugh. She's seen the joke twice, but the familiarity is comforting. Chris can always cheer her up.
Ashley's good humor leaves around the same time Sam heads upstairs for a bath—and Chris is setting up the candles. Spirit board time, she remembers. "Right," Ashley mumbles, scooting into the seat left open for her. A part of her is convinced the board is attributable to more than half of their misery, even if she knows the pointer is controlled by Josh. Still, it's spooky, the girl currently fiddling with fate decides.
She was flippant the first time around, but Ashley wants to think Josh believes in summoning the deceased. (Or that he continues to be a good actor, and Ashley's faith in him is misguided.) "Is anyone there?" She asks after a steadying breath. It doesn't feel right to ask a higher power for help with a freakin' Ouija board, but Ashley hopes that Beth will reach out, and somehow go off script as Ashley has been doing.
No such luck. The outcome is exactly the same.
Help. Sister. Josh seems as desperate as Ashley. Her guilt hits harder than ever. None of this would've happened if not for that stupid prank...
Ashley asks for Beth. I know where Hannah is. The pointer moves. Yes. Ashley scrambles to say her lines, apologizing this time instead of pressing for more information. She knows the story, the wholly terrible end to the Washington sisters. She isn't imagining Josh's pained look—faking that is just impossible. Even Chris looks somber; not believing in the board doesn't make him not sorry for last year.
Betrayed. Killed. Library, proof. Josh storms off again, Chris wonders if Ashley is joking, and Ashley insists on going to the library. Ashley hurries Chris along, picking over clues Josh let behind. Chris shows the fake threat, lets Ashley know about the "guy" threatening the Washingtons, and sooner than Ashley likes, Josh, now in his creepy costume, knocks her lights out with one punch. Ow.
Getting punched the first time sucked. It still sucks. If Ashley gets them all out of this, Josh is seriously going to get it.
There is no way to get used to being in a Saw trap, but Ashley wakes up and is mildly relieved with the night's progress.
She's jarred back to her predicament when Chris finally makes it to the shed and the recording of the Killer starts. She doesn't need to fake emotion here—there's a very real chance Chris will pick Josh, his best friend, over her. Ashley begs and pleads and tries not to listen as Josh does the same thing, struggling to get out of the ropes he set up himself.
"Ashley, I'll get you out of this! I won't let you die!"
The saw goes toward Josh instead, and Ashley braces herself for the blood. It's just as gross as last time. She's still horrified, and still relieved Chris picked her, that the rerun of their escape is perfectly genuine. Josh isn't dead, but Chris made his choice nonetheless. She holds his hand tightly, wishing she could erase this part in Chris's mind. She can't, she can't, or the prank Josh crafts will be null and void.
Better alive than dead, Ashley reminds herself with mingled relief and nausea, supporting Chris's weight on the way out of the shed.
They run into Matt and Emily, who decide to go to the cell tower for help. Ashley realizes she just can't warn them about the impending tower collapse, or the rangers will never arrive in the morning. She gives their retreating figures an agonized look, but doesn't say a word and goes back with Chris to the lodge. There, Ashley is a little less scared of the ghost thing she sees out of the corner of her eye, and more apprehensive once they progress to the dollhouse. Ashley flips through Hannah's diary, feeling her stomach churn as she reads the writing of a girl long gone.
Is there anything resembling Hannah left in the wendigo? Ashley wonders, struggling to remember the Stranger's notes.
She and Chris reminisce, Ashley finds the fake newspaper, and Chris reassures her about going on. The words are out of her mouth before she remembers if there's any indication Sam is missing, aside from not answering them. Maybe she got away, Ashley hopes. Or is hiding.
"I got your back, okay?" Chris says, and Ashley just can't wait until later—she moves forward when the opportunity arises, when the moment depends on who is braver than the other at this given point, and kisses Chris hours ahead of schedule. It's longer and sweeter than the other kiss, the first and last she and Chris shared before the lodge blew up, and Chris died. Her hands slide down his chest as he draws back an inch, eyes shining behind his glasses.
"Wow," Chris murmurs, one hand skating up to cradle her cheek. She's shaking, overcome with the responsibility of repairing the night.
"Just in case," she whispers, giving Chris a tremulous smile. She wishes she could tell him everything. He smiles faintly and leads her along.
They descend into the basement and Ashley mumbles about missing something, an understanding they will gain later. They find pictures of themselves and the group, blood on the floor, the machine being used to keep the lodge cold, a dummy wearing Sam's clothes. Weak with relief—Sam escaped Josh in this run—Ashley and Chris don't see Josh until he returns. With no scissors handy, Ashley panics and aims a swing at Josh, getting a black eye and another knockout for her troubles. Chris goes down like a tree beside Ashley, and Josh sets up another trap.
She wakes up stuck to a chair, facing Chris. She isn't ready to die, she says, and admits her feelings for him aloud.
Off script by her admission, Chris reciprocates. He stubbornly doesn't act as the saw comes down, aims the gun at the ceiling, and when it's down to the wire, shoots himself instead of Ashley again.
Josh unveils the charade. Sam hurries over to untie Ashley and place a comforting hand on her shoulder, unaware Ashley has already undergone this ordeal twice. Chris and Mike snap and spar with Josh, who is as irredeemably frustrating and distressing as the first time. Ashley pays the most attention to Mike, noticing he is missing a few fingers. Did he before? Ashley wonders, waiting to hear about Jessica.
"Jessica's fucking dead," Mike shouts. Ashley's heart sinks. Is anything avoidable? She has to save Jessica. She has to save all of them.
Mike knocks out Josh, who totally deserved that. When Chris and Mike come up with the idea to put Josh in the shed, she objects.
"Stop," Ashley intervenes, getting up in Mike's face before they can get out of the front door. "You're not taking him anywhere."
"Ashley—" Sam starts.
"Ash, he hit you," Chris protests, angrier than she's ever seen him. Way off track, she concludes, exhausted.
"It's wrong, and you know it. Besides, we have bigger things to worry about," Ashley refutes, rounding on Mike again. "Tell them—I know you saw something in the sanatorium."
Mike's eyes narrow. Sam looks questioningly between her and Mike, while Chris deposits Josh on a couch, listening intently.
"I didn't say I was in the sanatorium," Mike says at last, unsettled. "And how do you know what I saw?"
Fuck. That's right, only Sam knows. "Trust me, I know."
"How do you know?" Mike demands, unwilling to let it go. "You can't be in two places at once, Ash."
A scream. "That's Emily," Ashley blurts out, running to let her in before Emily can ask herself. Now even Chris looks suspicious.
Emily joins the group, effectively distracting everyone from Ashley with news of the cell tower and Matt's disappearance. Flamethrower Guy arrives, tells his bit and gives warnings, and makes to head out into the elements again, but Ashley catches him before he can get too far.
"My friends are in the mines. Matt...and Jessica. Can-can you save them?"
He nods, then vanishes.
Uh oh, Ashley realizes, as Sam shepherds them all to the basement. The Stranger didn't leave his bag. Which means no one except Ashley knows Emily's wendigo bite isn't infectious. Wanting to skip that unpleasant event horizon, Ashley draws Emily aside, away from Mike.
"Don't show that to anybody," she whispers, pointing to the bite. Emily pales, more in shock that Ashley knows than anger at the total personal space invasion. Emily's hair isn't long enough to hide the bite, but, with a shiver of guilt, Ashley remembers she was the one to initially notice it. "It won't hurt you," she adds under her breath. Emily listens closely. "It won't do anything. It's just a bite."
"Well, good. Whatever."
Emily's acerbic demeanor returns, but her eyes say different. She even squeezes Ashley's hand on the way into the "safe zone"—a thank you, more or less, and the only one she's going to get. Ashley gets a brief reprieve from the anxiety, but soon it's back to business.
Her new problem: keeping everyone in one place. Josh is still out of it, but here. That leaves only Jessica and Matt vulnerable.
It's early for rescue as well—her watch says they have more than an hour of waiting ahead of them.
Ashley finds a seat beside Chris. He has one concerned ear cocked in Josh's direction, but his attention is hers. He smiles, nervous and relaxed at the same time, and with a start, she notices he isn't in any pain or entertaining pseudo-noble ideas to stay behind after slowing the group down. He never went to the shed to retrieve Josh, thus never injuring his leg. The Stranger didn't die on the route back (as far as Ashley knows) and none of them go into the tunnels to get the cable car key—Josh still has it. We're practically home free, Ashley thinks. They have the key, but good sense has them staying put, where it's safe. No one want to try running to the only way off the mountain.
Her enthusiasm dims as the hours wane and approach six. But...I heard Jessica's voice, Ashley thinks, doubting every choice of this cycle. She ignored it the first time. Jessica's body was recovered as Ashley was rescued. She's the only one aware, and the only one to change things...so maybe...
"I need to go." Even she doesn't sound convinced. It's too hard to even attempt feigning courage—Ashley is just plain scared.
Only Josh—still unconscious—doesn't look at her. "Are you crazy?" Emily asks flatly.
"It isn't safe, Ash," Sam adds, tense. Chris stares at Ashley as if he hasn't never seen her before.
"Jessica's still out there. Matt is still out there," Ashley argues. Emily looks haunted, Mike bleak. It's the most uncomfortable swapping of roles Ashley has ever seen and experienced—she isn't the go-getter, they are. The mouse leads the lions, she thinks nervously.
"She's dead. I saw her," Mike points out, gloomy. "She went down in an elevator shaft."
"You don't know for sure." Ashley's already moving toward the tunnels. Chris trails after her like a shadow.
"You heard that guy," Mike tries, one last time. He gestures to the door, but he's tagging along, despite himself. "Going outside is suicide."
Ashley plucks up what little courage she's managed to cultivate over the course of the night. "Then I go out looking for my friends."
Sam and Emily glance at each other and then join the procession behind Mike, now supporting Josh between them. Chris is second in line, conceding to Ashley's authority with a fleeting smile. This is all under Ashley's lead. It's surreal—she's bossing around a class president.
"Well, let's go," Ashley asserts, resolving to work on her one-liners. All the badasses get 'em; now it's her turn.
Her first stint as the chick in charge fails. Epically. She investigates the voice after they descend into the manhole and the sewers, assuming Jessica is behind it, calling for their help.
Ashley dies first again. The rest follow as the wendigo takes advantage of their fear and confined space, making meals out of each and every friend Ashley has. The butterfly settles on Ashley's crippled knee in the meantime, a beacon of hope in the dank, dark sewers.
Will you choose? The butterfly questions.
Yes, I choose.
She wants to save everyone. All for one and one for all, like the Musketeers. They need to stick together, no matter what.
It's just hard. Her friends act as individuals, not a group, and are prone to letting their feelings get the better of them (Ashley accepts how hypocritical that sounds). One cycle gives Josh more time to mess with Mike and Chris, who then disregard Ashley's pleas and drag Josh to the shed. Josh is taken, Chris dies with the Stranger, Mike never comes back from the sanatorium, and Sam screws up when it's finally time to blow up the lodge. Emily goes for the lighter instead, and sure enough, Ashley is blasted outside, half on fire and reeling—Emily just sacrificed herself to stop Hannah. The last one until dawn, again, Ashley accepts the butterfly's offer before it is even finished asking.
She's starting to wonder if she's cut out for this job. Sam is a better choice. She's calm, and reasonable, and makes a habit of talking down even the most anxious people. Or Chris—Chris's skeptic inclinations would make every choice a logical one. Mike, perhaps, because he's always been a leader and can make the right decisions when he isn't at the mercy of panic (Ashley's seen several). Matt, maybe, for his infallible kindness. Jess, for her tenacity. Even Josh, a reluctant part of Ashley concludes, could take a shot and still do better than her.
Ashley just wishes the cycle went back further—a whole year. Then she could stop the prank, and none of this would be happening.
The revelation itself is sickening. The prank was just the fuse to a powder keg of terror, setting off a chain of events that may or may not be preventable. (The flapping of wings that creates a devastating hurricane...) Something has to be averted, she thinks, grief and desperation close to consuming her. That's what the butterfly wants, right? It has to. It wouldn't offer otherwise.
Sometimes, it feels like she's in a play. (The butterfly is the deus ex machina, inexhaustibly resetting the scene.) Or, at least, she's the only member of the cast aware of the fourth wall. Like Iago, of Othello. Is it possible to change the narrative? Can one person divert the course of an entire night? Ashley isn't optimistic about it. Every choice she makes has consequences, good or bad. Maybe it's futile to get all good choices. It just wouldn't be fair.
A new cycle gives Ashley the idea of substitutions. If she and Chris go to the cabin instead of Mike and Jessica, things will totally change.
She just...executes it poorly, by announcing that she wants the key. Super loud. Everyone looks.
"Dude," Josh mutters to Chris over Mike's uproarious laughter, thinking Ashley can't hear, "two words for you. Bone. Zone."
Ashley and Chris trudge to the guest cabin in embarrassed silence, Jessica's giggles trailing after them.
"Ash..." Chris starts. Ashley planned this, but his hesitation flusters her—does he really not want her? Ashley reminds herself to get back on track. She isn't looking for a night with Chris, she's trying to save his life. Save her own, save everyone's. He reaches for her hands.
"We don't have to do this," Chris tells her, earnest. His ears are flushed. She tries not to smile, warring with nerves and concern. "I just—we should take this, you know...slow."
"It's okay," Ashley says, going for a sheepish air. Their feelings were always an unspoken thing—a road not taken. These past few cycles are like pieces of her dreams; being with Chris so openly, without care. The timing of it is just...awful. "I just wanted to hang out with you."
Chris brightens. It's epic. The pressure to succeed abates for a second as she revels in Chris's grin, only for a deer to ruin the moment.
"What the fuck?"
Ashley sighs. Hashtag, major mood killer.
Things do change. Ashley is dragged from the cabin by Hannah, with Chris grabbing the shotgun and giving chase. Coughing up snow and dirt, Ashley loses it and panics, screaming and sobbing for Chris. Hannah drags her into the mine refinery, but the Stranger picks a fight, granting Ashley the chance to crawl into the elevator. The axles groan and creak, ruined by rust, but Ashley has to get out of here quickly.
"Ashley!" Chris yells, figure blurring, now blobs of color. Ashley feels her forehead with her fingers, seeing blood. Chris hurries over.
"Chris?" She questions, barely discernible over the squeak of the metal. Chris moves to pick her up, but their combined weight is too much; the elevator plummets. She catches one glimpse of Chris seizing a girder, left to dangle in the mineshaft while Ashley goes down, down...
Bam.
The elevator smacks against the ground, Ashley's head with it. Oof, she thinks groggily. She has to crawl on her hands and knees to keep the world from the spinning, stomach threatening to bring up everything she's eaten in the past day.
Ashley zips up the Stranger's spare jacket, aching all over and woozy. An echoing screech makes her stagger off to a hiding place and hunker down, praying she isn't seen. The fall hurts more than Ashley anticipated, and she can barely string a thought together, much less defend herself. Time slows to a standstill. After a lot of dazed consideration, Ashley decides she has to get outside.
The mines are murky and winding; half the way, Ashley is convinced she has gone in a circle. She takes a step, and another, and spots movement, ducking too slowly to avoid being spotted.
"Ash!" Matt yelps, out of nowhere, placing steadying hands on her shoulders. "Where've you been? How the fuck are you still alive?"
"Good question," Ashley mumbles vaguely. It's a slow recognition, but a non-addled bit of Ashley notes of the new change. Matt is alive. Without another word, Matt maneuvers her into a piggyback. "Come on, we're getting out here. Sound good?"
"Yeah," Ashley mumbles into his neck. "Real good..."
She thinks she tries to tell him about the butterfly, about dying, about the way the wendigo is but isn't Hannah, about all the mistakes.
Matt doesn't say anything. He's still as a stone, her as well, and it take eons for Ashley to grasp that he is avoiding detection.
"Close one," Matt mutters, shifting Ashley's weight. The gust of cold air alerts Ashley a little. They're outside, and her phone is beeping.
"Dawn," Matt cheers, setting her down carefully. "We made it!"
(She and Matt are picked up. Nobody else. Ashley sighs yes at the butterfly's invitation to rewind. Here we go again...)
There has to be a formula. Nature isn't the way it is without rules. Sam is the authority on the environment, but Ashley borrows Chris's methodism sometimes. There is rhyme and reason to each and every thing in the universe. This included. Ashley just has to crack it.
It's a lot to remember. Ashley fucks up. Constantly. She half-convinces herself this is a dream, but reality swiftly suggests differently.
(Ashley can't find a thing about the blue butterfly in the books stored in the lodge's library, trying to pass the time before she's knocked out by Josh. Black ones forewarn of your death, yellow of a friend's death. Red butterflies predict brewing danger. Yellow illustrates guidance, while white butterflies prophesy good fortune. Ashley hasn't seen any but the blue one. She assigns it the appellation of second chances.)
Once, just once, she gets too angry at the situation. She's riled up, stressed, about to rip her hair out if she thinks of the mess she's creating and will inevitably create. The ridiculous, unfair, totally over the top crap that has her shackled to relive this night, over and over again. It isn't right, it isn't nice, but Ashley takes it out on anyone who has the misfortune of being near her. They won't remember by the next iteration, anyway, and the butterfly seems indifferent to Ashley's behavior until she can no longer act and make decisions. She shouts at Josh, gives Chris the cold shoulder, snaps at Emily more ferociously than she's ever spoken to anyone, and disgusts Sam, Matt, Jessica, and Mike enough that the rest of the night goes to hell alarmingly fast. Chris chooses Josh over her again and again, Sam won't look at her, and when half of them are running out of the basement so they can escape prior to the blast, Emily shoves her into a wall. Ashley goes down and gets a three-on-one wendigo attack for her trouble. The butterfly isn't any less polite when it asks if she'd like to continue, but Ashley has learned a valuable lesson. It doesn't matter how Ashley feels about it all. She has a task, and it has to get done, regardless of her feelings.
Sometimes, when a friend dies in a particularly gruesome way, Ashley wonders if the butterfly is as charitable as it appears. She never considered consequences when she jumped into the time loop. In all honesty, it's like she's caught between forces—the cursed mountain and its faithful wendigo, and the butterfly. Good and evil, right and wrong. She's guessing, now, one for superstition but not religion.
Ashley postpones her impending existential crisis to explore the basement with Chris. Sam is missing again. Ashley pokes around rooms she hasn't explored before, gaining a rare opportunity to see how Josh ticks when she stumbles on his phone. Oh, Ashley thinks, colder than ever. Josh has more going on than she ever knew. Before, during, and after the twins, Josh struggled. Ashley puts the phone back, taking a breath to soak it all in. Josh is off his medication now. It doesn't excuse what he's up to, but it certainly explains it. She lets the sympathy devour her, relieved to find an answer, however small. It's something. She has to get Josh out of here, just like everyone else.
"Hey...come back safe."
"I'll see you soon."
Let's party like fucking pornstars. Go, run! Ashley, I won't let you die! Jessica's fucking dead! Watch out for that Josh, he's a schemer. I feel like someone's watching us. Dawn, at the earliest. Well it's definitely creepy down here. Hashtag, there's freaking a ghost after us? Boom, butterfly effect. Understand the palm of my hand, bitch. Go suck an egg! Here's our one way ticket to the spirit realm. I really wanna spend some quality time with each and every one of you. We gotta go! Oh my God, Em—maybe you forgot it. Don't fucking move a muscle...
Will you choose? Yes, I choose. Will you choose? Yes, I choose. Will you choose? Yes, I choose. Will you choose? Yes, I choose.
It's exhausting. Half of Ashley's conversations become stale. Her reflexes are polished, her thoughts are dreary. Most of her friends wonder what's wrong—we're on the winter getaway, Ash! She tells them, sometimes. Some believe her, some don't, and it's occasionally reversed in the subsequent cycles. She writes notes, desperate to make her friends act accordingly, but a group full of cynical pranksters can be counted on to laugh them off or discard them entirely (and every note vanishes when the night starts over). Ashley begs the butterfly to reconsider. Pick someone else, someone better. It never hears her pleas, only returning when she's dead or facing interrogations. Ashley always agrees.
"The future's not set in stone, right?" Ashley asks once, chasing an errant thought. Chris, Emily, and Sam look at her, flashlights swiveling. "You can change it?"
"I think so," Sam volunteers when Emily doesn't answer right away and pats Ashley's arm. "It's not inevitable."
"What about the Doctor's death at Lake Silencio?" Chris asks, struggling to keep up with his leg.
Emily gives them a long suffering sigh, but stays quiet. Ashley and Sam share a fond, exasperated look.
"That's the only fixed point," Sam amends magnanimously. Ashley laughs. If she was stuck with anybody but her friends...
Ashley goes through every piece of the night, resigned to seeing the entire picture. She might as well—she can't rest until it's perfect. Until every single one of them is alive; no one deserves to be left behind to die or suffer alone. Eventually, finally, she discovers a pattern.
Ashley swaps places with everyone in the group, sacrificing chances to save lives to see how she can rectify choices in the next cycle.
With exceptions, the parameters become clear.
She steps into Mike's shoes and sprints after Chris, risking the shortcuts to catch up. That's crucial. In the mines, as Jessica and Emily, she has to be quiet and favor caution over courage. In the sanatorium, Ashley (Mike) has to find guns, befriend the wolves, ignore the bear trap, and burn her way out of tight spots with oil drums. In the lodge, her actions are her own—she has to play along with the pranks (Chris and Sam). At the cell tower, she has to pass the flare gun along (Emily to Matt). In addition, as the tower is coming down, she has to jump, and jump hard (Matt). She has to talk down anyone who suggests putting Josh in the shed (Chris, Mike) or Josh will be doomed to a gory death (before or) after recognizing Hannah. Ashley and Sam need to prevent Emily from getting shot. The sanatorium has to be destroyed (Mike). She has to ignore every voice (herself)—it is never a friend. The rock walls are unbearable (Sam), but must be traversed to keep the group alive. Finally, when the survivors reach the lodge, no one is to move (Ashley, Chris, Emily, Josh, Mike, and Sam) until the wendigos are distracted. One person (Sam, or Mike) stays behind and blow up the lodge (and give themselves time to escape, depending on speediness).
And most important of all, the wendigo borrowing Hannah's body has to die. That's the butterfly's long term goal, Ashley theorizes.
Then, after the umpteenth time restarting the night from hell, everything goes according to plan. It's like the stars align, or the butterfly is taking pity on Ashley. Mike and Jessica flounce off to the guest cabin. Chris and Ashley entertain the whole of Josh's prank. Sam takes her ridiculously long bath but is captured by the Psycho. Mike finds evidence of the miners becoming wendigos and brings Wolfie along to the lodge (that's new, Ashley observes with interest). Matt and Emily both survive the fall from the tower. Emily braves the mines and doesn't get bitten. The Stranger dies (of all things, that is one of the constants). Ashley lets Chris back in (freezing up isn't an option anymore, not after that infamous round). She, Chris, Emily, and Sam go into the sewers, where Ashley ignores the wendigo pretending to be Jessica. Mike retrieves Josh from Hannah's lair in one piece. Matt and Jessica escape the mines. Six of the group (including Ashley) remain shock still, even Josh. Then, finally, the lodge explodes. The Makkapitew is released into the air, one last time, incorporeal once more.
The helicopter arrives. Everyone convenes at the ranger station, reunited in entirety. Ashley can hardly believe her luck.
Will you choose? The butterfly asks. It sits above the waiting room, perched on a ceiling fan. Only Ashley sees it.
Hell no! Ashley answers, resting her head on Chris's shoulder. But thanks, she adds hastily. For everything.
"Yo, Ash," Chris proclaims. He's the only one who's spoken since the eight of them were shuffled into the hospital for treatment. They all argued like banshees to be placed together, Jess and Josh's conditions notwithstanding. Their shared ICU room is overcrowded, but no one cares.
"Yeah?"
"How'd you know about the wendigo journal?" Chris asks. She blanches, and it takes some work to sort out what he means. This cycle, she had dug through the Stranger's bag for the journal and made the rookie error of shouting 'yes, found it!' (She just had this gut feeling that things were going right for perhaps one last time—it was unavoidable!) Chris doesn't look suspicious, only curious. Josh rolls over on his cot, interested in the answer. Jessica's gaze moves from the ceiling to Ashley, blonde hair spilling over her pillow as she moves. Sam's pacing on the opposite side of the room slows by half, Mike stops petting Wolfie, Matt cocks his head to the side, attention stolen from Emily, who already examining Ashley carefully.
Ashley laughs, a bit nervous. She's slipped up so often, it's difficult to remember what's what. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
Chris meets the eyes of everyone else, one by one, before returning his attention to Ashley. "Try us," Chris encourages.
There's a few possibilities. Ashley may be laughed at, Ashley may be believed, Ashley may get no reaction. Her friends are a mixed bag.
Nothing is consistent. Today won't have a repeat. The new constant is this: everyone is alive and well. The thought delights Ashley.
"Well," she begins, smiling through the day's (weeks and weeks) worth of fatigue. "It all started with this one butterfly..."