Famous Last Words
Spencer isn’t listening. She’s picking something up from the slimy floor. The red sole of Melissa’s left red soled Louboutin heel is dangling from her hand.
The others exchange apprehensive looks.
“Awfully convenient,” Alison opines. “I know we had this discussion before, but this looking more and more like a trap.”
Spencer doesn’t disagree, but she moves determinedly down the tunnel in search of Melissa, the other trailing along behind her.
“Famous last words,” Emily grouses.
“Could we not say ‘last words’ either?” Mona asks. “I believe in the power of positive thinking.”
“Mona and I are together!” Hanna announces suddenly. “Like, in a Biblical way. Or, okay, maybe it’s not really in the Bible - but in an Emily way.”
“An Emily way?” Emily repeats.
“In a gay way,” Mona clarifies, putting an arm possessively around Hanna’s waist.
“The gayest way,” Hanna agrees, beaming at her.
“What?” Aria exclaims, stunned.
“I wanted to tell you. In case we all die.”
“No one is dying,” Alison orders, firmly.
“Right,” Hanna mutters. “Not until you and Em -”
“Hanna!” Emily interjects.
Aria is still in a state of disbelief. “You don’t think this is crazy?” she asks turning from Emily to Spencer.
“We’re in mission mode,” Spencer says, sharply. “This isn’t time to be giggling over our love lives!”
“You’re not shocked,” Aria notices. “Is there no being shocked in mission mode?”
“Hanna told me,” Spencer says, still focusing on their progress through the tunnel. “When I confronted her about leaving the hotel room.”
“You left the hotel room?” Aria exclaims, confused.
“I didn’t want Mona trying to meet Charlotte alone,” Hanna explains. “I drove out to the Two Crows.”
“I left the diner when Hanna drove up,” Mona says. “We staked it out from her car for a few more hours, but Charlotte never showed.”
“This isn’t new, then?” Emily asks Hanna.
Hanna shakes her head. “We ran into each other in Miami, right after Caleb left. It’s been on and off ever since. Off, after I got engaged. But once we were both back in Rosewood...and after I got kidnapped - there’s nothing like almost dying to make you realize what’s really important.”
Emily looks at Hanna and Mona with their arms wrapped around each other in the middle of the dank sewer, taking in the way Hanna’s other hand is balled into a fist, the only sign that she has a layer of nerves underneath her brash confidence. She bites back every snarky thought she’s ever had about Mona, and shrugs nonchalantly.
“It’s not so crazy,” she tells Aria. “No crazier than us rushing off to rescue Melissa, anyway.”
The relief on Hanna’s face is so palpable that Emily drops back to pat her warmly on the shoulder. “We love you, Hanna. No one cares who you’re with.”
“Unless you hurt her,” Spencer cautions Mona. “In which case, we care very much and will run you over with a car.”
“Cars,” Aria chimes in. “Or maybe one of those trucks with the really big tires.”
“You don’t seem surprised, either,” Emily says to Alison.
“Please,” Alison snarks. “They crashed a party at Matt Damon’s house, and that story doesn’t end with Hanna trying to blow him? Do you not remember how many times she made us watch Good Will Hunting? Is it even a secret if it’s that obvious?”
“Touche,” Mona nods. “Hey, did Ezra mention a giant vault door at the end of the tunnel?”
“He did not,” Aria grimaces. “Did anyone bring a blow torch?”
Alison waltzes over the to giant metal door and pulls. It swings open easily.
“Right,” Hanna says. “Because it’s a trap.”
“My mom always used to say I’d jump off a bridge if you guys did,” Aria admits.
“My sister is in there,” Spencer insists. “Trap or no trap, we have to try to get her out.” She pulls Peter’s gun out of her pocket and shines her flashlight into the space beyond the door. It leads to a tiled hallway. She heads inside, the others close behind her.
No sooner are the last of them through the door when it swings shut with a loud clang. Emergency floor lighting flickers on, a series of yellow safety arrows guiding them forward, as if they’re evacuating a downed airplane.
“Is there a plan?” Emily asks Spencer.
“There’s six of us,” Spencer answers. “Strength in numbers.”
“Where did you get that plan, a fortune cookie?” Alison asks.
They keep walking for what feels like hours, winding down a maze of corridors that make Emily fear they might never be able to find the way back out. She takes a deep breath, knowing it’s probably only been five or ten minutes. Time seems to stretch, Emily thinks, when you’re expecting to be taken prisoner every three feet.
Spencer holds up a hand as they turn down yet another hallway, making a gesture for silence as they all peer around the corner a partially open door about fifty feet away. A puddle of light spills out into the darkness, and a wall of security monitors is visible with a tall leather captains chair facing the screens.
They exchange determined looks and creep forward as quietly as possible. Spencer flings the door open with a bang and spins the chair around quickly, only to find herself pointing the revolver at nothing, there’s no one there.
“About time,” a bored voice comments from the corner. “If I knew it was going to take you all day, I would have brought a crossword puzzle.”
“You’re - you’re not a prisoner,” Spencer sputters indignantly.
Melissa Hastings rolls her eyes and pushes an intercom button. “They’re here. Finally.”
A bookshelf swings forward and a figure in a black hoodie enters the room. Alison gasps, leaning against Emily as if she’s suddenly unsteady on her feet.
“So,” Charlotte DiLaurentis says, plopping down in the captain’s chair. “Which one of you bitches tried to kill me?”