Friends Eat Friends

Chris finds himself on the ground, vision blurred, obscured in shadow and low fuzz. His head throbs, flashes of orange and red and yellow processing through each slow blink. He can't feel his arm, can't feel his own body. But there is pain, pain and fire and the high shuddering screech of monsters in the forest.

"Chris, Chris! Get up!" That's Hannah.

Chris groans loudly, forcing himself up. Something solid slams into him, solid and cold. Chris hisses through clenched teeth, back on the ground. His clothes are heavy, wet with sweat and something else, something warm. Chris tries to move but the weight settles atop of him. He blinks away colors, shallow breathes rapidly pouring from his mouth. Chris thinks he might see Josh. Josh hovering over him with a mouth full of razors, gums bloodied, lips ripped up like some sick man's version of a puppet.

Chris hurts. A scream is lodged in his throat, teeth clenched so tight he's afraid they'll break. Chris thinks he might see Josh. It is Josh. With an arm. Chris' arm. His arm in between Josh's teeth.

Chris doesn't scream.

"Fuck!" Sam.

There's fire. Josh disappears from Chris' sight. Fire then shadow. Chris winces, shrinking away from flat, blackened hands that reach for him. He tries to lean onto his elbow, but the wet squelch of torn skin hits the hard floor with startling clarity. Sharp, agonizing pain cuts through his body. Chris cries out, fumbling around weakly for his glasses. He swears softly.

The room is so loud. Everything is loud. Chants fill the room, sounds of fire and spray cans shooting along walls, that horrible awful screech of death and cold. Chris breathes. He hears someone screaming.

"Jesus fuck!" Emily.

Chris finds his glasses, forcing them onto his face with a trembling hand. Pain shoots through him, heart pounding every rib until Chris is crying out again, finally gazing upon the damage. His forearm is gone, shreds of sleeve left behind, bloodied and dark. Skin torn away leaving barely concealed pieces of bone.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Chris forces himself up onto his left elbow, shifting his entire weight forward. He stumbles up straight, eyesight blurring drowsily. Chris squeezes his eyes shut. Something darts past him. He nearly falls over.

"Chris!" Beth.

The room falls silent, muted words pressing along his subconscious as Chris turns slowly. It's like a scene in a movie, all spread out and stretched wide. Beth is running towards Emily, whose holding some makeshift version of a flamethrower. It spews fire out slowly. Chris thanks the universe for Emily because of course she wouldn't come unprepared. Sam has Hannah, both ducking as it flies over their heads at Josh.

Well. It looks like Josh.

Josh moves slowly through the air, mouth torn up with teeth, body mostly surrounded in translucent black mist that wraps around his limbs like string. Shadows trail after him, pouring from his body like something out of a nightmare. Blackened sand and endless dark.

Chris can make out the white of Nixkamich's mask. It stares at him from inside the large mass, unblinking, unsmiling. Just stark nothingness of white wood. They stare at one another, everything still slow and dragging. Silver eyes blink.

"Would you like to know what you taste like?"

No. Chris doesn't. He wonders if it can smell how terrified he is.

It smiles slowly. "Heaven."

The world begins to spin again, pace picking up before Chris' sluggish mind. Fire curls against Josh's torso, connecting midway before he can reach Hannah and Sam. The bloodcurdling scream that follows rocks Chris to his core.

"Don't move." Emily hisses.

They all freeze, Chris cupping the bloodied stump of his hand with unsteady fingers. He can feel bone, bone and the soft, moist insides of his skin. It makes him nauseous. Hannah holds Sam tight, Beth fighting back tears as Emily stares ahead, eyes unblinking and strong despite the fear in her face.

Josh hits the ground soundly, knuckles scraping along the surface with an annoyed huff. He sniffs the air, white eye darting back and forth. The Nixkamich sighs irritably through Josh's mouth. His Adam's apple dips as a high clicking noise sounds through the air.

"What do we do?" Beth whispers.

Josh screeches, walls shaking under the sound. Chris tries to calm himself as Hannah begins to cry. Her face twitches, eyes narrowing as thick tears fall down her face. Emily made the right call. For some reason Josh couldn't see them. A flaw in the design.

"We need to finish." Emily says, lips barely moving. Josh shuffles around them, sniffing the ground, the air. He grunts in annoyance. Emily was right. They just needed to get Josh back in the circle, get him to stay still so it can be done. Chris moves his foot.

Josh immediately focuses on him. Chris swallows, fighting back a wave of dizziness creeping through him. It wasn't the time. It's not the time. Chris nearly falls forward. Sharp teeth grin in his direction. Josh's head tilts.

Emily shoots Chris a look, finger twitching over the nozzle to her homemade flamethrower. Chris forces his legs to move. Josh lunges forward, but not without difficulty as Emily immediately triggered the canister during mid movement.

Josh collides into the nearest wall. It cracks underneath him, the vibrating sound of bones breaking resonating in the room. Chris hides behind a crumbling wall, breathing heavily as Josh skitters after him. The mask hovers in the shadows, eyes a notch bigger than before. It looks angry despite any distinguishing features to suggest other wise.

"Chris?" Beth calls out softly.

Josh pauses in front of him. He perks up, body painfully still. The distance between them is small, barely an arms length. Chris holds his breath. Josh whines, it almost sounds human, almost sounds like Josh.

"We have to get him back in the circle." Emily whispers. "She said this might happen. We just need to keep him in it."

"Someone's going to die, Em." Sam bites out.

"We're all going to die at this rate." Emily counters. Chris hates to agree but she's right. Someone wasn't making it out of here. If Chris kept track of all the shitty, dumb decisions he's done over the years this would be number one. Chris blinks away colors. His arm burns with every flex of his fingers against it.

A rock flies past him. Josh's attention averts immediately, the mask shifting in turn and Chris hurries to the other side of the wall. The girls are where he left them. Beth stares back at him, hand fisted around more rocks, eyes tracking for any movement. There's a cut on her forehead, cheeks dirty. Hannah's face is buried in Sam's shoulder. Emily standing ready, lip bleeding from where she's bitten to hard.

"Plan?" Chris asks.

"No." Sam snorts. "Not a good one."

Beth's eyes lock just above him. Crumbles of brick tumble down Chris shirt follows by the slow drip of saliva. Chris tenses up, staring widely ahead at Beth, who stares above him, bottom lip tugged between teeth. Chris looks at Emily. He eyes the circle before focusing back on her.

Emily gives a short nod. Josh hisses from somewhere above him. A thick wet cough fills the room, darkened red slime trickling down Chris' shoulder. It smells like rotten meat. The shadows still, mask floating around the room with impossibly wider eyes. Its mouth shrinks into a thin line.

The Nixkamich whispers old words, some dark mumbles of ancient tongue.

"I will rip the skin from your bones." It snaps angrily. "I will make him watch as I tear apart those he loves and I will devour his soul."

Chris and Emily exchange a glance. Underneath all that anger, that vicious display of what their outcome could be, Chris heard the waver in the spirit's old voice. If their situation was different, Chris might say it sounded impressed, impressed and irritated.

The stereo continues to play the same chant over and over, candle flames flickering from soft wind. Chris glances at the circle, sweat sliding down his face, and he shoots Sam a soft smile. Her body tenses up, mouthing 'no' frantically over and over. Beth seems to understand what's happening, eyes blowing wide and she starts to move. Emily grasps her hand before she can.

It's almost perfect.

Josh flings himself forward, arms outstretched, shadows clinging to his body like second skin and Chris does the same, grasping Josh's ankle with a bloodied hand. He nearly misses, fingers barely wrapping around the slim bone, skin slippery and wet and he almost thinks he doesn't grab him. Chris doesn't want to think about if he did miss. Hannah stares at him, eyes wide with horror, rimmed red and she's screaming.

Chris might be to.

Sam forces Hannah away, grasping Beth's wrist as she drags them from the circle. Emily holds out her phone, finger still ready. Chris yanks with what strength he has left. Pulling hard, he trips forward into the circle colliding with Josh who lands with a sickening crunch.

Chris thinks the only reason this works is because Josh wasn't fully possessed. Slamming him into the ground was easy enough, seeing as Chris had a bit more weight than Josh in general. Chris can't imagine if Josh had been completely like the things they saw on the mountain. Chris doesn't think it'd matter at that point. They'd be dead. That man, Jack, would read about it in the paper and laugh as he remembered the dumb kids who climbed the mountain looking for answers.

Josh snarls viciously, jaw snapping in response to being held down. He bucks up, nails breaking against the floor until they're raw and peeled. Chris struggles against him, grasping what little flesh he can manage with one arm. Josh thrashes violently, elbows popping back. Chris tries not to get hit, tries to avoid having his nose broken when Josh growls. Chris almost cries when he hears Emily's voice ringing above.

Josh twists around underneath him, nearly forcing Chris off but he only manages to end up on his back. Blood drips onto his face from where Chris' arm no longer remains. Josh falls limp, breathing erratic and heavy. His green eye focuses on Chris as the white one flickers around the room.

"Chris," Josh croaks weakly. Chris forces himself to breathe. He realizes he's crying, a shaky smile crawling across his face.

"Hey."

"Chris, it hurts. It hurts." Josh whimpers, tears sliding down his face. "Please.. Please make it stop."

"We're trying. We're trying." Chris tells him, reaching out to touch Josh's face. He hesitates, hand retreating back after it barely touches the horrifying tear in Josh's face. Emily's voice becomes a soft lull in Chris' ear as he stares down at Josh, stares down at the shadows that are wrapped around his boyfriend's neck, his wrist, slowly seeping into skin.

"Josh? J-Josh?"

Josh whimpers. It's such a painfully human sound. He reaches for Chris' hand, his missing hand, his missing arm. A dry sob escapes torn lips, Josh's green eye closing.

"I'm sorry. I-I'm sorry, Chris."

Chris cries softly, resting his hand against Josh's face, teeth and all. They're slick, stained red, sharp and inhumane. They prick his palm, his fingers. Chris wishes he didn't feel as scared as he did, staring down at the fucked up face of the boy he loves. Chris loves Josh. He loves him.

The mask sinks before him, smiling expectantly as it slides over Josh's face. It's eyes are normal again, empty and small.

"You cannot win."

Chris shakes his head furiously. "Goddamn it, Josh. Just hold on."

It hums in amusement, a wide, sharp smile spreading across its white surface. Chris grasps the front of Josh's stained shirt, tugging insistently, trying to get Josh away from that mask, that awful fucking thing. But where he moves, it moves. Chris tries not to cry but a broken sound escapes his lips.

"Josh, c'mon, preach." Chris begs. "You're just going to let some mountain spirit win. That's.. Thats f-fucking lame, bro."

Josh arches up, throat hoarse as black bile forces it's way out of him. It slides underneath the mask he wears, pooling under his body like a spiked sponge. Chris turns to Emily, who is still speaking frantically, brow furrowed. He's never seen Emily cry but he's seeing it now. It feels a lot like failure.

Have they...? Failed?

Chris hits the ground with a painful crunch, wind knocked out of him. His chest feels painfully tight. Chris wheezes. He squeezes his eyes shut, chest heaving as he coughs out a thick wad of blood. Chris stares up at the ceiling, resignation settling in every bone in his body. He's tired.

His mom would be disappointed. Josh's mom would be disappointed. Chris said he'd take care of Josh. That's what he said after Josh woke up in the hospital after his stomach was pumped, after Beth found him unmoving on the floor. Josh was his best friend. He had to take care of him. That's what best friends do.

"Regrets?" The Nixkamich inquires. The smugness of victory. It sounds like Josh, distorted and wrong but still so very Josh. It shouldn't, it shouldn't, it shouldn't. Chris should've told Josh he loved him. He should've hung out with his dad more. Chris has regrets. He's wasted so much time.

Josh crawls up his body, face barely visible through the static distortion of the mask. Chris could almost laugh. It wasn't even a physical being, yet here it was, consuming the person Chris cared for the most.

"End of the line?" Chris asks. His head feels like fog. He can make out the crooked smile on Josh's face, just beyond the empty whiteness of the mask. A hand wipes at the blood on Chris' mouth, tender, almost lovingly. Beth is screaming from somewhere beyond his vision.

"Guess so." Says Josh's voice.

Black spots dot Chris' sight, body protesting the desire to move, to escape. Chris shushes his brain, shushes the scream to 'run, run, run' because Josh is wiping blood from his face, his cheeks, his lips as if he's still there, still hanging on and they've won. The mask smiles this time. Sharp, broken teeth hardly seem as threatening now when it feels like he's dying already.

A clap sounds the air, like thunder snapping across a stormy sky. Josh stills over him, horrifying teeth hovering inches away from Chris' face. He shudders, arms quaking on both sides of Chris' body.

"Chris?"

Chris cranes his head to see Sam on her knees just beyond the circle. Her face is sweaty, tension lines creasing her forehead. Josh heaves, bracing a hand on Chris' shoulder. He growls at Sam, gurgled noises of saliva deep in his throat.

"What's happening?" Beth asks quietly.

"Quiet." Emily snaps.

The stereo has stopped, nothing but static filling the air. Chris' candle dies silently, the faint waft of burnt wax circling him. The hand on his shoulder grips tightly, forcing its way into the joint. It snaps. Chris bellows, fighting against how heavy his body feels. He tries to sit up. Josh forces him down.

A low cackle fills the air. Shadows pour from the every corner, spreading a thick coat of darkness. Chris can faintly hear Emily screaming, Beth's frantic shouts of Hannah's name. His body tenses up, burning and throbbing with every painful breath.

"J-Josh. Josh, please." Chris whines. He doesn't know what he's asking for. It could be anything. To live. For his arm. For Josh to fight it. The Nixkamich's mask peers down at him, furious, silver eyes alive with hatred and hunger. Josh grasps Chris' neck, fingers digging into the soft skin. He squeezes tightly earning a choked gasp.

"Would you like to know his thoughts?"

No. No. Chris doesn't. He doesn't. No.

The Nixkamich leans in, sour smelling breath fanning Chris' face. He struggles to breathe, blood loss coupled with his lack of oxygen making his brain hazy. His vision spots, blurred images of Josh's distorted face, the mask of the Nixkamich's grinning fanged smile.

"He's screaming. It's beautiful. You should hear it." It purrs. "He's so sweet, so.. delicious. I should've targeted young ones from the beginning. So ripe."

It whispers softly in its native tongue, words rolling around in Chris' head. The clack of the stereo buzzes, chanting resuming. Josh's head turns slowly, staring at something Chris can't see. Probably Emily. Probably Beth. Hannah. No. No.

"Josh." Chris tries again. The hand tightens.

"You children are most persistent. I think I'll kill the youngest first. Save you for last, pretty boy."

No! Chris snatches Josh's hand as it eases up. He forces himself up, using his legs for balance. Chris slams into Josh, sending him sprawling backwards, uncoordinated and biting and Chris just needs to keep him distracted, keep him from the girls. He just-

Chris screams, pain ripping through him as those teeth sink into his shoulder. He chokes on a sob, trembling violently as Josh bites deeper and pulls.

"Josh! Josh, no!" Hannah shouts, voice wrecked with terror. "Josh, please!"

Chris hears Emily's voice, hears Beth's shouting as Sam slurs words along his subconscious. The Nixkamich chuckles, rich and thriving.

"My, my. Heaven indeed."

"Josh, you have to fight. You have to fight this!" Sam shouts. "You're killing him! You're going to kill us."

This was a bad idea. It was stupid. They're out of their league. So... Out. Chris numbly searches for his words, falling forward, teeth still deep in his shoulder. Hurts. Hurts. Hurts. His chin hits the ground, blood seeping through his teeth. Chris can taste it, can taste death; it chills his insides, quiet soft hush of his brain drowning out every noise, every feeling.

"'m sorry." Chris forces out. He can't see. Can't see Josh's face, only the edges of darkness spreading across his eyes. The ground shakes with a roar, drops of debris falling from the sky.

"Sweetheart, it's not time."

It's a whisper. Chris opens his eyes. He hadn't realized he'd closed them. He's on his back, sticky with blood and vomit. Josh is over him, mask gone, face deathly pale. Chris wants to touch him. Josh is vomiting, vomiting thick swells of blackened sludge, hands tangled in the folds of Chris' jacket. The ground is shaking, voices loud in the air. Chris can see the shadow, the Nixkamich standing tall, fading in and out of existence. It's horrifying, angry eyes once again widened, mouth barely a line.

Chris barely registers the screaming. His eyes slip closed again.

"Chris."

He's tired. Let him sleep.

"Chris, open your eyes."

Chris can't. He doesn't want to. Everything hurts. They've failed. He's failed Josh. He's failed everyone. Chris doesn't want to watch, doesn't want to see. A shaky hand grabs his. It tugs insistently, soft, broken sobs pounding in Chris' ear.

Just. "Tired." Chris wheezes.

"Josh? Josh, let me see." Sam whispers.

Why is she close to them? Sam needs to get away. Chris tries to open his eyes, to warn Sam but he coughs until it hurts. There are hands on him, hands firm and calming unlike the trembling one folded in his.

"S-S-Sa.." Chris grits out.

"Shh. Help is coming."

Who is coming? Why? Josh was still dangerous, that thing was still here, still taunting and ugly and it's going to kill them, it's going to kill them and make Josh watch.

"Josh, you need to lay down." Emily says. Josh. Josh? Chris tries his eyes again. They barely open beyond slits. It's a tiring gesture but he can see, barely, and oh. Josh is staring down at him with this bleeding, broken expression. The tear in his mouth is still there, fresh, ripped open around tiny, sharpened teeth.

Josh is here. He's here. Chris could almost smile, could almost laugh but he's exhausted. He can barely feel anything beyond the numbing pain. A tired sigh works past his lips, expelling with a sharp wince. His heart swells with joy.

It worked. Josh is here.

His eyes are closed again, white specks of light fluttering in front of them. They dance and twirl, beckoning and giggling. Silence. Silence and dark.

Chris realizes he's standing, standing in a black room with these dancing white slips of light. He trails after them. There is no pain in his shoulder, no tender wetness where his forearm should be. Chris glances down. The arm is clean, bandaged tightly around a stub. He could make a joke about how it's a good thing he's left handed but no one would hear it.

Chris is alone. Alone and following dancing white lights. He wonders if he's dead. Dead or dying at least. Chris takes in the emptiness surrounding him. It seems endless, no solid foundation or walls. Just. Black.

"It's a bit underwhelming isn't it?"

Chris looks to his left. A familiar smile peers back at him, faceless, bodiless aside from the white of teeth and bright red lips.

"Am I dead?"

"No, sweetheart." His mother's laugh is beautiful. "Just sleeping. I'm proud of you. Taking such dramatic steps to ensure Joshua's safety."

"Is he okay?"

She hums quietly. "He won't be for a while."

Chris nods slowly. "Why am I here? If I'm not.. dead."

"Because you're dying, my cheery boy."

"You said-"

"Dying isn't the same as being dead." His mother smirks. "I should know. I am your mother."

"Emily did it?" Chris asks.

"She's very brilliant, that girl. But I'd say it helped that you became an honorary chew toy in order to keep it distracted."

Chris lightly touches his shoulder. "Is it gone?"

"It's where it belongs."

Chris slows to a stop, turning to the smile. The dancing lights pause, peering curiously at them. He gestures to the lights.

"What's that?"

"I have no idea." She says easily. "I just know, if you follow them, you will die."

Chris raises an eyebrow. "What happens if I don't?"

"You follow me."

"That sounds easy." Chris says with a smile.

"You've had a hard semester, hon. Very hard."

Chris contemplates. Having one arm wasn't that big of a deal. It wasn't a devastating handicap. But he'd have nightmares for the rest of his life. That seems small compared to the alternatives. Chris glances at the lights, then to his mother's smile.

"Will I be afraid of Josh?"

"Yes."

Chris shifts his weight. "Will I get over it?"

"Yes."

"How long?"

She clicks her tongue. "It can take a while. If it helps, it's not his fault."

It wasn't. Chris tilts his head to the side. He didn't have to go back, he could follow after the lights and never deal with looking at Josh as if he's something evil. He could stay and die knowing Josh was safe, Sam was safe, the twins were safe. But.

"He's not going to forgive himself, is he?"

Her smile turns sad. "No. Things may go badly."

"Then this," Chris gestures to himself. "Would have been all for nothing. Josh can't die, mom. He can't. We fucking did it! He... He can't just give up."

"I know, darling. But imagine, for him, it will be like waking from a horrible dream only to realize it wasn't and you've killed your best friend. Imagine having the weight of three deaths weighing on your conscious, the leftover emptiness of an awful evil." She explains. "Josh is alone in this. He will be alone with those memories and his guilt will consume him. It will be hard but you have good friends. However, it might not be enough. It may never be enough. But.. You can try, Chris."

Chris swallows thickly. Josh would need friends, support. He'd need his best friend.

"I have to go." Chris tells her.

"You do." She smiles.