Dyatlov Pass [Chapter 12 + Epilogue] PART 2 OF 2!

[x-carnivale-x.livejournal.com]

Since Livejournal is retarded, here's the second part of Chapter 12 and the epilogue.

Title: Dyatlov Pass.
Author: x_carnivale_x
Pairing: Chip/Jeff.
Rating: R/NC17 [violence, homosexuality, graphic description of gore]
Summary: The causes of the accident are still unknown. Neither the official inquest, nor attempts by enthusiastic unofficial investigations have solved the mystery.
Author's Notes: This is it, the final chapter! I can't believe that this thing is over. I'm kind of bummed to finish it... Oh well, this chapter is WAY long, so you have lots to read. There's no SEPARATE epilogue, though. I considered it, but what I started writing as the epilogue, I ended up just making the concluding part of this chapter. So you essentially have an epilogue, it's just, not in a separate post. So yeah, at least you don't have to wait for it.
Previous Chapters: Chapter One // Chapter Two // Chapter Three // Chapter Four // Chapter Five // Chapter Six // Chapter Seven // Chapter Eight // Chapter Nine // Chapter Ten // Chapter Eleven // Chapter Twelve A

::

Chip felt very official when the authorities told them they would be taken to the general area by helicopter. The plan was to land in the clearing near the woods where the team had set up camp and have Jeff re-track and retrace what had happened. Jeff was fairly calm during the briefing session. He nodded his head, agreed to their terms calmly, even if Chip was visibly nervous as fuck. Especially when they mentioned that only seven officers would be accompanying them on the recovery trip. Chip looked at them in utter confusion, but Jeff just nodded in what seemed to be quiet understanding.

"I understand your concern, Mr. Esten, both for Jeff and for yourself." They said, "But these are the officers available for this kind of recovery. A large team would also complicate things and run a higher risk of problems simply because we know so little, and because Jeff is really the only person with any thorough knowledge of the area. We only know it by schematics and maps."

Chip questioned the safety of this trip. But he knew that if they were going to be unsafe, it was probably better to endanger as few of people as possible. What the fuck kind of logic was that? Chip didn't know, but he tossed the thought aside and held onto Jeff's hand.

As calm as Jeff had been before he'd entered the helicopter, he was quite the opposite on the flight into the mountains. He gripped Chip's hand tightly and stared out the window with a blank and empty expression. Occasionally Chip would glance at him, but he'd never glance back. Chip would just run his thumb over Jeff's hand in a futile attempt to comfort him. Chip glanced over and saw Jeff's free hand twitching slightly; if Chip had seen it correctly, it looked as if he were tracing X's on the armrest. Chip placed his other hand on top of their already linked hands. It stopped Jeff's twitching fingers, but it didn't make him glance away from the window.

Chip noticed that one of the officers was staring at him and Jeff. He just glared at him momentarily and turned his attention back to Jeff. They were coming close to the open field, and Chip noticed that Jeff's hand had begun to tremble. The helicopter dropped down suddenly, and Jeff clung to the armrest. Chip tried to reassure him, but he didn't even respond.

Steadily they landed; and Chip suddenly couldn't distinguish Jeff's trembling from his own. The doors opened, Chip zipped up his coat. And they exited. The area was calm and sunny. Chip was surprised at how it wasn't as cold as he'd expected. It was still cold, but not freezing. He still shook, though. He wrapped his arm around Jeff's waist. Waiting for them at the site were about five other officers, two of which had dogs with them. The beasts barked loudly at Jeff. Jeff cringed at their attempted assault, and Chip glared at the handlers.

Dead bird. Blood. Fire-stick. Noose. His stomach heaved. He whimpered. Noose. Fire-stick. Blood. Dead bird.

Jeff shook his head quickly. The American officer that they had been corresponding with since the beginning exited the helicopter after his partner and came up to Jeff, speaking to him quietly.

"You alright? You remember all this?"

Jeff just nodded silently, avoiding looking up at the officer's face.

"Alright, for now, you two and two officers will stay here. We're going to do a quick run-through of the area. We'll get you when we need you. For now, stay in the chopper, stay warm, and rest easy. We'll be a little while."

Chip nodded and led Jeff back to the helicopter. They boarded alone, the other two officers and the pilot stayed outside. Once the doors were shut, Chip pulled Jeff into a hug. Jeff accepted, wrapping his arms up and around the brunette, pulling himself and Chip together tightly. His mouth was buried in Chip's shoulder, and when he spoke, it was an odd mumbling noise, but Chip understood for the most part.

"We could have stayed a few more minutes..."

"I know. But we have these minutes, right now."

The two sat down next to each other and stared out the window to their right, giving them a view of the edge of the forest. The officers moved past the line of trees and vanished within the depths of the woods.

"You should stay here." Jeff muttered. "Shouldn't go out there."

"You should know better than that."

"I know. Just thought I'd try."

They were quiet.

"Chip, you could get killed."

"So could you."

"I will get killed."

"No, you won't."

"You don't know that."

"Neither do you."

"Mm."

They sat silently together. Chip tilted his head back against the headrest and shut his eyes, his fingers idly toying through Jeff's hair. He would have stroked his arm, but it was covered with thick fabric; and he felt detached from him because of it. He tried not to think. He couldn't. He tried to keep his eyes closed. But every few moments he'd open them, as if to double check that Jeff was still beside him. He tried to still his fingers from their desperate touches. He couldn't. He had to feel Jeff, had to know he was there. Afraid that at any point, he could lose him.

At one point, Chip tried to stop breathing. He couldn't. And he quickly wondered in which pocket Jeff had stored his inhaler.

::

After about an hour, the two officers that had stayed behind opened the doors of the chopper and beckoned Chip and Jeff to come outside. When they were out in the cold again, Chip could hear the loud barking of the dogs. As they stared at the edge of the forest, they saw the first five officers coming towards them the dogs in front of them, seemingly barking in the general direction of Jeff. The raven swallowed thickly.

"Seems clear." said one of the dog's handlers. Jeff nodded silently.

The dogs suddenly stopped their advances on Jff and snapped their heads back towards the edge of the woods. They were silent for a minute, but in the next instant, they'd tugged out of their handlers' hands and were sprinting towards the woods, barking loudly and aggressively. The officers started to run after them and whistle for them, but Jeff quickly held them back. The two hounds disappeared past the trees, still barking loudly. A moment passed, the dogs barks were farther away, but still loud... until both sets stopped suddenly.

The woods were dead silent.

"Let's go." Jeff muttered and walked steadily towards the edge of the trees. The others silently followed him. Chip followed slowly as well, fear now suddenly engulfing him, he ran to catch up with Jeff and stayed by him. They didn't touch, but they were close together.

Jeff paused when they reached the end of the plain, as if he were attempting to gain up any lasting bits of courage. The dog handlers whistled loudly, expecting a response if the dogs had heard. The woods were silent.

"Won't do any good." the crow head mumbled. They looked at him, obviously perplexed, but they seemed to accept the comment, and did not whistle again. They followed Jeff slowly; at first a few of the officers kept their hands on their guns. Jeff thought it was funny. He just shoved his hands in his pockets. Every now and then, he would stop, look around, close his eyes, and breathe deeply before resuming a path through the intricate maze of trees of the Ural Mountains. Chip stayed by his side, but the officers, despite their previous statement that it seemed safe, tended to stay behind the two of them. Chip began to wonder to himself about them; weren't they supposed to be there to protect them?

They wandered for almost an hour until finally Jeff just stopped abruptly. Everyone stopped behind him. They'd reached a tiny clearing. It was covered with snow.

"What is it?"

"Here."

"What?"

"This is where the tents were."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, I am. You should be too, you were one of the guys who found them. This is it."

"How do you remember?"

"The trees."

Chip looked around at them. There were X's scratched into the bark. The markings looked old, mostly worn down, and difficult to see. But they were there. Jeff touched one gently and looked around the clearing.

"I'd heard some noises. I woke Igor and Nicolas up. Then the tent started to shake, almost like it was collapsing cause of the wind or something." He walked over to the clearing and stood in the area where, Chip assumed, the tent had been. "I could hear some shouts from the other tents. Someone cut the tent and we ran out. I never saw anyone, though."

"If someone was shaking the tents, weren't you bound to run into them at some point when you were trying to get out?"

"Yeah, I guess. But I didn't."

Chip saw Jeff shudder as he stood where their tents had been. He shivered once again and glanced around, tensing his shoulders up, perhaps trying to keep himself warm. He glanced to his left and wandered slowly in that general direction. Chip was curious.

"I ran.... I ran this way. I don't know where the others ran."

They thought he would stay in the clearing, but he didn't, he just continued into the trees and the others were forced to blindly follow.

"It was dark."

Chip saw the sun beginning to fade; he wondered how long they had been out there. Should they turn back? Wait till tomorrow?

"Jeff. Jeff, wait!" he called. But Jeff didn't stop.

Chip ran to catch him. He grabbed his wrist, and Jeff stopped immediately but startled and flung his hand out of Chip's grip, staring at the brunette with shock.

"We should wait till tomorrow, it's getting dark." Chip muttered.

"No."

"Yes."

"Why is it getting dark?" one of the officers muttered quietly. "It's barely a quarter to four."

"We have to keep going!" Jeff yelled.

"Jeff, we can't! Look at this weather! We can't stay out here!"

The wind continued to rattle through the trees, the snow fell in sheets, and the trunks of the trees groaned and creaked with every new gust. There was no more yelling, though.

Jeff shook his head, still hearing Igor's drowned out voice in his ears. Chip just stared at him.

"We have to keep going..." He muttered again. "We won't stop here."

"Jeff, I agree with Chip, it's getting dark."

"It's only four!" The raven yelled defensively.

The American officer quickly attempted to grow stern.

"I don't care. We can't stay out here. We're heading back, we'll start up again in the morning."

"Fine. You head back. I'm going on."

"What?" Chip whispered quietly.

"Go on! Go back! But I'm not going with you." The police and Chip were silent. Jeff stared at them and continued solemnly. "If we don't keep going, we'll never find it. It'll get dark tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after. This is where we belong. This is how we'll find it. If you won't come, that's fine. But I'm going on."

"Jeff, don't do this." Chip pleaded quietly, glancing around and the increasingly dark woods. But Jeff was already walking away. Chip looked at the officer to his right, bit his lip, and ran forward, next to Jeff.

"Don't. I'm going on."

Chip didn't say anything, but rather he took Jeff's hand in his. He glanced back at the officers. The two Helsinki police opted to turn back. The other three, two Americans and a Russian officer followed Chip and Jeff, trustingly blindly that Jeff would lead them to safety. One of the Americans whispered quietly to notify others if they didn't come back within 12 hours. The Helsinki officers nodded silently and turned around, abandoning the five in what Chip considered to be cowardice. But he couldn't judge them. He was just as afraid as they were; the only difference was that they had been smart enough to turn back.

Chip didn't look back. The darkness was growing, flashlights had been brought out, and if Chip could see correctly, each officer had a firm grip on the gun resting in his holster. He didn't blame them. They walked onward and Chip could feel Jeff shivering. He rubbed the his jacket-covered arm lightly, but Jeff pulled away, un-linking their hands. Chip felt wrong. Something was wrong.

"Jeff?"

But he could hardly see, couldn't see where they were. There were lights from the flashlights, but he couldn't see Jeff.

"Jeff?!"

"Here."

"Where?"

"We're close."

"Grab my hand."

"No."

There was a pitter-patter of running feet, and Chip inhaled sharply. Turning around, seeing the small lights from the officers, except that instead of three, there were only two. He would've mentioned it, but he couldn't seem to think.

"Jeff! Where are you?"

He heard him breathing, steadily, but loudly. Chip shivered; it was pitch black, despite the small beams of light from the two available flashlights. He groped blindly in the darkness. Leaves and sticks and snow seemed to be crunching and moving all around them. Chip couldn't think, he wouldn't think. He clenched his eyes and tried to grab for Jeff. His hand grabbed the raven's, but in the next instant, it was gone, out of his grip. Feet. Running. Jeff was running.

"Jeff, don't!! Wait!" He yelled loudly.

Suddenly he broke out in a run, following his friend blindly, hearing the two remaining officers yell at him from behind and eventually begin to follow too. He couldn't have cared. Jeff was moving. Moving quickly. Where? Where were they? He didn't know. His lungs tightened. He couldn't breathe. It was cold, fucking cold. He had to stop. He collapsed against a tree, leaning forward onto it, feeling the cold roughness of it, but savoring the fact that it was there. His heart pounded in his ears. He couldn't hear anything else. Just that pounding. Steady, but fast. Steady. Steady... He could faintly hear the beat of a heart monitor, it made him wonder where Jeff was. His heart clenched, he was sweating and shaking and fucking freezing. His breath came out in short, sputtering, gasps. He could hardly care. His heart beat. Jeff. Where was Jeff? He started to yell, but was cut off by Jeff's faint yell, as if he were far away.

"Nicolas!"

The voice echoed. Chip could hear it; he knew neither of them should be yelling, but for a moment, he didn't care. They couldn't be alone. Not there. Please god, don't leave them there alone.

"Igor!"

Echo. He listened, tempted to yell back. He was sure it was Jeff, it had to be.

"Alexan-"

Jeff's voice was cut short. Chip panicked and yelled loudly, suddenly feeling adrenaline coursing through his body.

"JEFF!"

But there was no response. He wanted to move, but it was almost as if his heart had stop when Jeff had not responded. He glanced around him, still breathing heavily. He looked for the remaining two flashlights, but they weren't there. Nothing was there. Just black. Why had it gotten so dark? Where were the police? Where the fuck was he? Where the fuck was Jeff? His heart suddenly pounded in his chest, he could hear the blood pumping and ringing in his ears and despite the thick blackness of the night, he sprinted forward, using what last bits of strength he could muster to push his legs onward. He didn't know where he was going, but his legs pulled his body onward, onward into an deep labyrinth of blackness. Every now and then he felt something scratch his face, perhaps the thin extraneous branches of the trees, or his arm would slam into a trunk. But no matter how badly every blow hurt, his legs didn't stop. No matter how badly his chest ached, he somehow kept breathing, no matter how fucking cold it was, he could still feel and move, and steadily in his ears he could still hear the rapid beat of the blood pulsing through his body.

Until he tripped. His foot caught onto something, he presumed it was a tree root that had been hazardously sticking up through the melting snow. He slammed down onto his chest, attempting to let his elbows catch him. The ice and snow that had not melted yet dug into his forearms and he felt them scrape. He stayed still, breathing heavily until everything was silent. No noise. No pulsing noises in his ears. No noises from his rapid and ragged breath. Just the deafening quiet. He moved his hand but he didn't hear the leaves rustle or the snow crunch. He shook his head and pushed himself up to his hands and knees. As he glanced around, he realized he could see, barely, but it was enough. The moon was suddenly above him. He blinked furiously in confusion. But as he moved to push himself up off the ground he glanced before him. Maybe 20 yards away there was a small, flimsy, house-like structure. His breath hitched.

"Jeff..." He whispered before pushing himself up fully and running quietly towards the shack. His steps slowed as he grew closer to it. He paused. Standing silent and still. He turned his face away from the house and clenched his eyes shut as his brain fired, images and memories passing in and around the backs of his eyes.

He found himself face to face with a small house, if it could even be called such a thing. The windows were boarded up, there were locks on the doors, and the roof was falling apart. Most of the walls were starting to cave in.

He peered closer. There was a lock on the door, but it was busted. Chip was surprised, and his heart raced, but he stepped forward and placed his hand on the door handle. He stopped before pulling, feeling a tremble run up and down his spine, down through his arms and legs. He shook and bit his lip. Without a second thought, he pushed himself forward, he forced his arm to pull the door open steadily. He expected it to creak, but it didn't. He tossed the thought aside, and with a final deep breath, stepped past the threshold.

The room was cold, wherever he was. It was dark, whatever light the moon had provided was gone now. It was dank and it had that kind of smell, that mix of sweat, vomit, decay, and flesh that crept into your nose and burned your eyes and mouth. He wanted to gag, but he knew better. He couldn't see it, but he was sure his breaths were coming out in puffs. For a few moments he was frozen in place, didn't want to move, couldn't see where to move. But gaining a small ounce of courage, he allowed his arms to reach out into the blackness to feel for something, a person, a wall, a door, anything to guide him, to help him. He found nothing. Just empty space. He swallowed thickly and stepped forward. He moved steadily until his hands felt a wall. It was cold, stoney, and yet wet as if it were coated with mildew. He wanted to recoil, but he feared that if he did, he'd lose the wall forever. He dug his fingernails into the wall as he attempted to follow it. He moved steadily along, until suddenly his feet slammed into something unexpectedly and he was losing his balance. He felt his fingernails scraping down the wall as he toppled forward atop of whatever he'd fallen on and he wasn't fast enough to catch himself, instead his side landed atop the foreign object and his shoulder slammed into the hard floor. Against all better judgement and lack of control, he cried out in pain before silencing himself immediately. He fumbled around, attempting to get off the thing he was under until as he fumbled, his hand landed on top of part of the object that felt... strangely like a hand as well. He felt it, and moved up the arm and without thinking moved to the face. It was somewhat pudgy and his brain clicked and he recoiled quickly, flinging himself backwards into the darkness even further, knowing that one of the officers was lying before him. He rubbed his hands on his jacket roughly, attempting to rid himself of the physical memory of the officer. He wished he knew who it was. Or at least knew his name. But he didn't. He swallowed thickly and told himself to get over it. He began to stand again but paused as he did; a moment of realization washing over him.

His flashlight.

Chip lunged forward as quietly as he could and, repressing his feelings of disgust and ill, felt the body until he found the officer's waist. He felt the gun-holster, but no gun. He swore silently but continued feeling along the belt for what felt like a small pocket for a light. It would be a small, but it would do. His hands fumbled around until finally, success, there it was. He undid the flap and pulled out the small flashlight. He blindly felt the object, looking for a button of some sort and found it on the end. He clicked it once, but the light didn't come on. In frustration he slammed it against his hand, hoping that it might work. He fiddled and twisted until finally, after re-twisting the head of the light so it was tight, it came on. He'd never felt so happy. It wasn't much light, but at least it was something. He stood up slowly and shone the light around the room, a third of him curious, a third of him desperately wanting to find Jeff, and a third of him absolutely terrified. But he looked anyway.

The room was just as he'd expected it to be, dark, dirty, dank, and ultimately dreary and unused. Except that it wasn't unused, and Chip knew it. He steadily shown the flashlight down at the officer to see his face. He recognized him immediately, it was the American who's first come to his door weeks ago. He stared for a moment and saw that his scalp was bloody and that there were gooey, lumpy bits that appeared to be coming from the side of his head. Chip stumbled backwards into the wall and retched, tasting disgusting bile come up his throat and burn. He spit it out and shivered, not daring to look at the body again. He was dead and that was that.

Chip stepped over him shakily and glanced about the room, shining the light slowly, attempting to find something. And he did. His eyes adjusted slightly at what his light had landed on; it looked like a door, but rather a cellar door, perhaps leaded downwards. There was no lock or chain on this door and Chip, against all better judgement, strode over quickly and opened it. It opened to darkness, Chip hadn't expected anything else. He shone the light down and saw a steep set of stairs. They looked flimsy and in all honesty, he was entirely unsure as to whether he should dare to step foot on them. However, he shone the light further down the stairs to whether they ended, and saw in the dim beam of light a hand and arm lying limply on the ground. The rest of the body was out of view, but Chip knew those hands. He felt something surge inside him and without thinking, he moved down the stairs, not knowing what to expect or what he would do once he made it down. But he knew Jeff's hands, and he knew that was Jeff.

Two steps down from the end, the stair broke under his weight. He tumbled forward and landed roughly on his palms. He felt his shoulder twist and he cried out. He looked to his right, and saw that Jeff had moved. There was a small window up near the top that seemed to let a bit of moonlight in. It shone onto Jeff's body, onto his face. Chip broke. Jeff's eyes were closed and his body was limp. But Chip heard shuffling. He couldn't hear where it came from, or how close it was. But then that whisper.

"Poistaa"

Chip didn't think; he ignored his aching shoulder and the way his palms stung when he pushed himself up, he crawled over to Jeff and grabbed him, not asking questions. He crawled, attempting to drag Jeff, who was slung over his twisted shoulder back towards the stairs. Shuffling from behind him. He pushed further, crawling onward, trying to get away. But the shuffling still followed. But he'd made it to the stairs. He forced himself to stand, his arm around Jeff's waist, Jeff's arm slung around his shoulder. He'd never felt so heavy. But he couldn't stop, not now. There were noises behind him, every one seemed closer, louder, fucking faster. He climbed the stairs as fast as he physically could, somehow, miraculously getting Jeff past the door. He slammed it behind them and shoved the flashlight between the two handles and over the opening, so hopefully whatever was following them couldn't open it. He knew it wouldn't hold, but at least it was something. He fumbled forward, lugging Jeff onward. He avoided the body, and didn't think to question where the other two police were. He pushed forward, feeling Jeff's body tugging downward on his injured shoulder. He told himself not to care, but he couldn't. It hurt so badly.

They were past the door, they were outside. Chip let out a yell with any strength he could muster; but it merely echoed, swallowed by the trees. He trudged onward, attempting to run, but knowing he was limping. He wanted to stop, to tend to Jeff, but he didn't have the time. If they stopped, they might never get out. His right arm only gripped Jeff tighter and pressed on, his right hand, pressed against Jeff's hip, felt moist. He prayed the liquid wasn't what he thought it might be. He cringed but stumbled forward. Every branch hit his face, every root grabbed at his feet. He didn't know if they were even headed in the right direction.

His pace slowed, no matter how much he told himself to keep going. He couldn't. It was dark, silent, fucking freezing. His arm was numb from holding onto Jeff; he couldn't stop, he couldn't keep going. Keep going. Don't stop, don't stop. Just keep going, don't fucking stop. His heart pounded, but it was slow. Pulse. Pulse. Beat. Beat.

Beep.... Beep....

He coughed and sputtered and shook in the cold. His lungs couldn't take it, they just couldn't. The blood was ringing in his ears; it was deafening. Until finally he felt he couldn't hear anymore. He trudged onward, only the sound of his raspy breath registering in his head. Until suddenly, out of the darkness, a noise, a wind. That noise, it was familiar. It was suddenly loud. Engines, the helicopter. He forced his eyes to stay open as he glanced forward and suddenly saw through the trees. The clearing. Keep going, don't stop. Don't leave, don't leave us.

With the last bit of energy and strength he had, he pushed onward, forcing his legs to run rather than stumble and pace. He ran as best he could. He didn't even know if he was breathing anymore. But Jeff was still next to him and he was still moving. Who cared if he could breathe, so long as he was moving... Finally, the edge of the forest, the chopper was still there. It was still dark, but the fluorescent search lights of the helicopter were comforting. He yelled, though he knew they wouldn't hear him.

"W-we're h-he-re! W-ait!"

He ran onward, broke through the trees. Stray branches cut his face and his feet were tripping over themselves. They'd made it past the trees. He collapsed forward onto his stomach, Jeff falling down with him. He glanced up at the helicopter and saw some black silhouette running towards him. He reached his free arm out to them, his right arm still clinging to Jeff. He couldn't hear anything, just the noise of the chopper. His eyes squinted at the light, but he was thankful for it. He fought to turn his head towards Jeff, who lay limply next to him, the raven's head turned to face Chip. Chip clenched his eyes shut and haphazardly pressed their faces together. Finally, someone was grabbing his hand, taking them. His eyes had closed, he couldn't open them, he could hear muffled words, but he had no idea what they were saying. He was being moved. Someone was pulling him up, Jeff was away from him. Someone hoisted Jeff up too. They carried them towards the helicopter. They were speaking to him but Chip could hardly hear them. Blood makes noise. His ears ringing. Sound of the ear cells dying. Enjoy it, while it lasts. He saw their lips moving.

"Where are the others?"

Chip shook his head, at least he thought he did.

"Leave..." he half breathed, half yelled.

That was all he could think to say before his eyes clouded over with black.

[Chapter 12 Cut]

::

Epilogue

::

Greg, Ryan, Colin, Brad and Drew scrambled out of their taxi at the doors of the Helsinki hospital; a place they were all too familiar with. An emergency phone call had reached them a day before and they'd caught the first plane out of the States to Finland. None of them had slept since the phone call, not all through the flight. They rushed up to the front desk, Greg rapidly demanding to speak with Dr. Holsley; it was an emergency regarding Chip Esten and Jeff Davis. The receptionist nodded and led them back through the halls quickly. Greg didn't question her readiness to let them back; he assumed she understood the situation at hand. Dr. Holsley met them in the middle of the hall. He looked as if he were about to speak, but Greg didn't let him.

"Where are they?"

"Calm down."

"Where the fuck are they?!" Ryan yelled.

"Chip's here... Jeff... didn't make it."

They were silent.

"I-I'm sorry. We... He was already gone by the time he got here."

Brad laced his hands into his hair, pressing his palms into his eyes. Ryan fell against the wall, sliding down it slowly. Drew rubbed his eyes, turning away from the doctor. while Brad and Greg hadn't moved. Greg just stared at the doctor.

"...What... the fuck happened?" He muttered, almost whispering.

"Please, just. Come with me, you all need to sit and we need to talk. Please. Chip's here, too, you can see him."

"How is he?"

"Just come on."

The five followed him in a daze, dumb-struck and faces gone pale. They followed him until they saw they were headed to the same observation room they'd been taken too when Jeff had been in the hospital. They entered without question, to their right was the window, and this time in the room was Chip. He in the middle of the bed, cross-legged, facing the window but with his head hung down low, his hair, now somewhat grown out, hanging in his face. Greg swallowed thickly. He heard the others sitting gently into the chairs that were available.

"The officials that went with them into the woods are missing... Some of the officers stayed behind with the helicopter, in a clearing, they're the one's who brought Chip and Jeff back in."

"They didn't tell us... They didn't fucking tell us they were going!" Ryan shouted suddenly. "Why the fuck wouldn't they tell us?!"

Colin was immediately grabbing his hand and trying to calm him; Greg could see through him, no matter how strong Colin was trying to be, his eyes were filled with agony. Greg tugged at his hair, still staring through the window at Chip.

"What happened?" He whispered softly.

"We don't... we don't know."

Greg bit his lip, his breath shook, and he watched with curiosity and despair as every few seconds, Chip twitched and scratched at the back of his neck.

"I... I'm so sorry." the doctor mumbled. "The officers who made it back weren't the officers who went with them into the actual forest. They stayed behind and waited in the clearing. They said they were just about to go looking for them when Chip apparently came sprinting out of the woods. He was... carrying Jeff's body. They said they thought he was already dead then..."

"How'd he..." Drew started to ask, but he forced himself to stop speaking, his voice cracking.

"Internal wounds... a lot of... a lot of internal bleeding. He uh, he had a few cuts but nothing obvious as far as outside wounds. Except for one thing..."

No one said anything. Brad's face was pale, his eyes red, Colin had his arm slung around Ryan who was visibly shivering, Greg still had his back to them, staring through the window at Chip. The boy before them still scratched at his neck, more viciously as time went on.

"There... There was an X carved into the back of Jeff's neck."

Greg whimpered loudly and bent his knees down to a squat. His hands held onto the wall at the base of the glass and his head lent forward, his forehead pressed against the wall. He grit his teeth and clenched his eyes. He bent his fingers, letting his fingernails scrape against the tile. He wanted the doctor to just shut up. It wasn't his fault, he knew that, but god, why wouldn't he just stop. He couldn't listen to this.

"We don't know about the three officers that actually accompanied Chip and Jeff into the woods."

Greg was crying by this point. He let out a ragged sob and stood up, turning back towards his friends. He wiped his running nose and puffy eyes and attempted to compose himself. He couldn't. Drew stood and hugged him tightly; Greg buried his face in his friend's shoulder, gripping onto him for dear life. The room was silent. That is, until Chip's voice quietly and fragiley came through the speakers.

"They're dead. They're all dead..."

END

Well. That's it, the story's over. :)
It's been a really long journey, it's been difficult and wonderful to write and I've enjoyed every minute of it. This was one of my favorite projects. I will be moving on to be posting a bunch of one shots that I hope you all will greatly enjoy.


I hope you all have enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it. Honestly, I don't think I could have finished it without you guys. You all have really pushed me through this, and I hope it lived up to what you hoped. Please, give me some feedback; I live for it.

HAH. PS!
This chapter and the epilogue alone were 11,000 words. That is freaking amazing. 23 PAGES! No wonder it took so long! ^_^