Afterlife
They watch the cabin burn all night. Anything else would be a waste of heat.
The fire shrinks into a campfire. There is someone on the other side. A woman with antlers. There are people on either side, just like there are people on Lottie’s. The figures are too blurry to count, but the line they sit in makes it clear that Lottie has more.
The fire dwindles until it’s a drift of smoke in the sky. Misty’s the one who dares suggest that the fire may have caught the attention of anyone looking for them. You know, the way the plane’s smoke didn’t.
Taissa tells her to shut up.
Lottie can’t walk very well. Mari and Akilah rush to help before she can say a word. Akilah carefully moves her blankets to one shoulder to support Lottie with the other. Mari shoves her own at Gen. No one speaks but Natalie, and Natalie says the obvious: there is only one place for them to go.
The plane is not completely buried. This is a small relief. Lottie is too sick to help dig out what needs digging, so she sits on the floor and watches the others. Their hands must be aching. They’ll have to be careful not to get frostbite. Some people try using what they grabbed from the cabin. The pan turns out to be worse for digging than a human, but the antler horn Melissa ripped off in a panic makes a for a decent, if small, pickaxe.
Lottie leans against a tree under all the blankets and dozes. She doesn’t mean to, but she can’t help it. Her nights have been pained and restless ever since she let Shauna attack her, and in this moment, with everyone just as silent and just as scared, she feels the peace of being at one. She isn’t Lottie right now, but one of a herd. And herds are one with nature, which is why it burned the cabin. It needed to ferret them out, like rats in a wall.
Maybe that’s too many animals for one metaphor.
Anyway, when Misty shakes her awake she seems scared that Lottie has died. Welcome to your new home: a crashed plane. The one your family paid for, meaning if you weren’t on this team then this wouldn’t be happening. Nobody says it today, probably because having the plane at all is a mercy. Or maybe because nobody’s saying much of anything. Do sobs count? Some of them are getting very good use of those vocal cords.
Natalie snaps at Gen to be careful. Gen was about to sit on Jackie’s bones.
Turns out no one wants to move Jackie’s bones but no one wants to sit next to them, either. Lottie is on that list, but something compels her to sit beside them, anyway. Jackie wasn’t a quiet person, and she died upset. Lottie hopes the silence of her bones means she’s resting in peace, and she hopes their presence won’t disturb it.
“Looks like you’re stuck with us for a bit,” Lottie tells the bag of bones. Jackie made the winning headshot. “It’s okay. I get it. If you weren’t on this team then this wouldn’t be happening, either.”
She never heard anyone bring it up when Jackie was alive and she never heard anyone bring it up when Jackie was dead. Someone must have said it. Just not in front of Lottie.
Melissa approaches and offers Lottie the deer antler she used as a pickaxe. For luck, she says. To help her feel better.
Taissa asks why the hell Melissa grabbed that. Melissa snaps back that it helped them dig, didn’t it?
Lottie accepts the antler. She no longer feels like one of the herd. The way Melissa is looking to her, it’s just like before.
“You should give this to Natalie,” Lottie says, handing it back. “She’s the one you need to listen to, now.”
“Let’s just get some rest,” Natalie says. Her voice is hoarse. She isn’t one of the herd, either. At least Lottie isn’t alone in this respect. “We’ve got a long week ahead of us.”
--
Natalie Scatorccio is dead. Lottie has a distant concern that the death certificate will spell Nat’s name wrong. Even Nat’s junior MVP medal spelt it wrong. The news articles. The conspiracies.
Lottie’s primary concern, of course, is that Natalie Scatorccio is dead. Nat is dead.
Lottie has been in psych wards before. This one is very blue. It may be that they have tried to combat white walls by painting blue ones, but that brings its own implications what with so many patients being depressed. It is a dark blue, so maybe it’s supposed to be calming. Instead it makes it look like either a prison, or a school room. Like she’ll walk down the corridor and see Bunsen burners.
It’s literally the opposite of the wilderness. Of where it wants her to be.
“You have been placed under a 72-hour hold,” Lottie is informed. Only 72? Easy. Lottie can bear down for 72 hours. It’s not got a patch on 19 months. Or 15 years.
--
As the fire blazed, Van ran to the shed and grabbed pieces of Javi. A disgusting, practical act. No one else thought to do it. Such is the power of Van.
When Lottie wakes, some of the girls have buried the pieces in the snow. They have made a circle with them, and invited Natalie to step inside.
No one has ever looked less excited about anything than Natalie does about stepping into the preteen bodypart ring. Gone is the ecstasy from yesterday at being chosen Lady of the Flies.
The plane has a problem. That problem is a gaping hole where they ripped the door off to put it on the shed.
The blankets are needed as covers and they’re thin, anyway. Everyone has turned nocturnal from watching the fire, which is probably for the best: the nights are colder and your body temperature drops when you sleep. They’ll need to make a rotation, so they aren’t living in complete darkness. Nat and Travis will need to hunt in the day. Living in complete darkness will make someone depressed very quickly. They’ve already learnt that the hard way, and they need to combat it now. There are certainly enough other factors to make someone depressed, such as the multiple deaths and impending more deaths and seemingly endless winter, but at this point being even one tenth less depressed will feel like taking heroin.
For now, the plan is to rip out the unneeded seats and create a cover for the door. They use luggage, too, what little there is left. More seats are used to create a sort of nest area, which will be comfier than sleeping in an upright seat.
The ultimate plan is to retrieve the singed plane door and attempt to reattach it, but no one is particularly hopeful that this will work. None of them are engineers or plane designers. Melissa would’ve liked to be an engineer, but she is trapped in the woods and intent that, barring this one, she doesn’t want to see another plane ever again.
She’ll get her wish.
--
Back in the noughties, Lottie’s current institution and Natalie’s current rehab took the same day trip to see a motivational speaker.
At the time, Natalie had dyed her hair purple. Real purple, not one of its loftier cousins. She was sat in front of Lottie, but Lottie knew her on instinct. Nat was slouching, because Nat was always slouching, giving off the vibe of I don’t want to be here in a way only Nat could.
About halfway through the talk, Nat skulked off the bathroom. Lottie was interested in hearing what the speaker had to say, but it wasn’t anything new, and reconciling with Nat was more important.
Only one occupied stall. A hoodie wrapped around a smoke detector. The humming of some godawful rock song.
Lottie knocked on the cubicle.
“Fuck off,” Nat’s voice came. “If I have to listen to another second of that droning moron, I swear I will relapse out of spite. You can’t seriously think this shit helps, being preached to about how much better we could do and how much worse we could have it. It’s a fucking guilt trip and you know it.”
Lottie smiled, and knocked.
“If you’re needing a dump, use one of the other cubicles,” Nat’s voice came. “I’m, uh, gonna be in here a while. I’m guessing the others are blocked or faulty, but they can’t be as bad as squatting in a hole.”
Lottie saw it like a game, now. She knocked again.
“Would you fuck -” Nat’s voice broke when her face did, door swung open to see who, exactly, was knocking. “Fuck. What the fuck. Oh, what are the odds that the loony bin they paired us with would be your current residence, you psycho freak?”
“I can’t believe it’s really you,” Lottie said. “But here you are and here I am. I imagined somewhere a little nicer for our reunion. For the record, squatting in a hole is better than the other cubicles. We would know, right?”
“No, no way, do not talk to me about our shared history like that makes us friends.” Nat was backed against the cubicle with wide eyes, like she thought Lottie would attack her. Lottie could only roll her eyes. So ridiculous. “You’re awful functional. Using words and everything. Did the latest quacks let you graduate from picture books?”
“It’s funny that you call them quacks considering this round of rehab is voluntary,” Lottie pointed out.
“And how would you know that?”
“Travis told me.”
Nat breathed out at length, then activated the fight part of fight-or-flight to get past Lottie, like Lottie was trapping her here instead of just standing. There was the brief threat of being attacked with a cigarette, which had burnt out anyway and could hardly compare to the burn of hypothermia.
“I – just – want – to – talk,” Lottie both struggled and emphasised. Nat was a little smaller than she remembered. Someone’s personality living rent-free in your head will make you forget that.
Natalie was like a weasel, or a terrier, or one of those other small animals that makes up for it with bite. “I know. You only need to talk to ruin my life again. Let me out!”
“I’m not holding you hostage,” Lottie claimed, though she kind of was. Realising this, she stepped back and held her hands up. “See? You can leave if you want. I just thought it’d be nice to talk. We were friends, once.”
“Yeah,” Nat said. “Once. Not now.”
But she didn’t move. Lottie smiled.
“So, how have you been?”
--
Van and Tai, true to their word, have come to see Lottie in the institute.
“Nice room,” Taissa tries. It’s decent, as far as psych wards go, but Lottie grew up in very expensive institutes and this is thus the smallest room she’s ever been in. She wouldn’t have minded sharing, if it meant they would have sprung for bigger than a closet, and she could’ve helped her hypothetical roommate. As it is she can only try to help the wall, which would undoubtedly extend the stay. “They treating you well?”
“As well as can be expected,” Lottie manages. Her voice is raw. Van sits beside her, holds her hand.
“Do you know what happened?” Van asks. Lottie closes her eyes and nods. “It was bad. It was like being back there again.”
“Well, we did simulate it on purpose,” Taissa says. “How are you feeling, Lottie?”
Lottie quirks a brow. “Well enough to hear you be condescending.”
“I’m concerned,” Taissa corrects, clearing her throat.
“Yeah, about taxes. You sound like a political ad,” Van tells her. Lottie can almost physically see the sexual tension between the two. “You’ve gotta get rid of the senator talk.”
“That’d make my job very difficult,” Taissa refutes, but it’s light. “Seriously, Lottie. How are you?”
“I’m in a liminal space right now,” Lottie informs them. “How I am remains to be seen when I exit it. What I’m concerned about is how the two of you are.”
“Fine,” Taissa says, as Van says, “Great.”
They look at each other.
“I’m good,” Taissa reassures, as Van reassures: “I’ve never been better, honestly.”
Van was openly sarcastic, but Taissa was also obviously lying. Taissa is also the one who goes with: “Nevermind us. You’re the one locked up in a facility. You need to tell me if they’re treating you right, because the abuse of patients is something I will not stand for.”
“Right. What do you stand for?” Lottie asks, genuinely intrigued.
“In psych wards? An increase in appointments, better quality of food, a higher standard of care -”
“But don’t worry,” Van interrupts, grinning at Lottie, “because we’re gonna break you out of here.”
Taissa: “What? No, we aren’t.”
“Oh, yes we are. I’ve spent the last thirty years watching heist movies, I know all the tricks.”
“I’m a senator. Senators can’t bust people out of the psych ward.”
Van grins back at Tai, cheeky. “Can’t they?”
“I appreciate what you’re offering,” Lottie interrupts, shaking her head. “But there’s no point. It doesn’t care where we are. It’ll always find us.”
“Right, but you’ll be happier with us,” Van informs. “We’re not leaving you here to rot, and you’re not going back to Switzerland, because they speak four languages there and I assume you’re awful at all of them.”
Tai to Van: “Oh, so you’re an expert Romansh speaker now?”
“I wasn’t talking about me, but for your information, I took a course on it that I enrolled on drunk in my thirties.”
Tai seems charmed by this. Lottie looks between them. It’s nice, that their spark is still there. They belong together, Lottie’s sure of it, and they will be together again, if they aren’t already.
Taissa announces that she is going to talk to a doctor. She disappears down the corridor. She’s not Lottie’s next of kin, but she is a state senator and a force of personality, so maybe she’ll have some luck with…whatever she’s doing.
“I was diagnosed with cancer last year,” Van says. Lottie looks back at her. Gone is the cheeky humour. Van’s face is completely serious. The shadows of the room fall on it strangely, making her look like a stranger. It’s been a long time since they’ve seen each other. Maybe Van is a stranger. But then: can any of them be strangers, when they were made together?
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Lottie says. Yet more proof of the Wilderness’ grudge against them. “Do you need help? There is space for you at the compound -”
“I’m in remission, Lottie,” Van interrupts, rubbing at her face. “I got the call on the way here. The doctors were just as shocked as I was. They thought I was a goner. So far along I couldn’t even get chemo. Just take meds to suppress, and live with it. And now…” Van shakes her head. They’re both thinking the same thing.
“Nat’s sacrifice was not in vain,” Lottie concludes. Van looks at her. There’s that stranger again. It seems the years have not been kind to Van. If only they had stayed in contact, they could have helped each other long ago.
“When I got it, I thought: ah. Here’s my fate. Three times I’ve almost died, and I wouldn’t get so lucky on the fourth. And now I’ve beat it again. How many more times is this gonna happen? Why me?”
“Because you’re special,” Lottie tells her. “You’re strong.”
“I don’t feel strong.”
“Bravery doesn’t exclude fear. Strength doesn’t exclude vulnerability. You are strong, Van. There’s a reason you survived out there, and there’s a reason you’ll survive now.”
Van’s face crumples. When they embrace, it doesn’t feel like hugging a stranger, like contact with one of her followers. It feels like hugging a friend.
When Van and Tai leave, Lottie overhears part of their conversation, outside the door.
“Maybe I should be in a place like this,” Taissa says.
“Maybe they take walk-ins,” Van replies. Taissa laughs wetly.
“Everything is so messed up,” Taissa says. “Things haven’t felt this messed up since I went back to high school. But…I don’t know. It feels…right, somehow. Familiar.”
“It feels like back then,” Van confirms. “Only instead of a group of us, we’ve got the entire human population.”
“We’re not eating anyone else,” Taissa says.
“No, I know. Or killing anyone. But it still feels like we’ve got enemies, right? That’s what you mean?”
“Yeah.”
Small silence.
Tai asks: “Do you think she’s really okay?”
“I think she’s better off than any of us. She’s for real, Tai. You know that, right? She’s not making up this Wilderness stuff. I feel it too. And the pattern of – well. I’ll tell you in the car.”
“Are we all gonna be okay?” Tai asks, sounding vulnerable. Lottie can’t see them, but she imagines the rustling is Van taking Tai’s hand.
“We were before.”
“You’d call that ‘okay’?”
“I’d call it survival. Okay can come after.”
Lottie smiles into her pillow. Such is the power of Van.
--
Spiritually-gone Javi becomes physically-gone Javi frighteningly fast. Animals – real ones, not people pretending to be ones – are still scarce. It is obvious that they are going to need to kill someone again.
“There is one person here who isn’t one of us,” Natalie says. Everyone, silently, thinks: oh god, what if she means me? Travis thinks I’m a boy and Melissa thinks I’m a JV who never once got to scrimmage with them and Taissa thinks my other self and Shauna thinks because I attacked Lottie they don’t see me as human anymore and Misty thinks equipment manager isn’t technically one of the team but it’s a very important role! and Lottie thinks I select her for leadership and she selects me to be eaten. If that’s what she chooses, so it will be.
Lottie stays silent, and lets Nat take the lead.
“We need to kill Coach,” Nat says.